


When The Tide Turns

by WistfulScribbles



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Writer!Killian, lawyer!Emma, reluctant travel buddies au, somewhat at least...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 68,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WistfulScribbles/pseuds/WistfulScribbles
Summary: The plan was to go to England, finish the case and head back home in a matter of days. Of course, nothing in Emma’s life ever goes according to plan. Not only does she end up travelling across Europe, looking for a Liam Jones in order to finish her case, she ends up travelling with Liam’s brother - an annoyingly handsome Killian Jones. And she doesn’t trust him one bit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2017 Captain Swan Big Bang, and I honestly can't believe I finished this! I never would've been able to without the help and support from my amazing beta forget-me-not-s. And thank you theblacksiren, fairytalesandtimetravel and optomisticgirl for the wonderful artwork!! You're all just seriously amazing!!
> 
> I'll be updating each Friday from now on until sometime in December, and the fantastic thing about the csbb is that the fic is already done! So all that's left to say now is that I hope you enjoy it :)) (and remember to check out all the other amazing works from the csbb!!)

“Mom, I can’t do this right now, I have to get on the plane.”

“But Emma, you can’t just leave like this!”

The queue moved forward. Emma balanced her phone, passport and boarding pass in one hand, trailing her suitcase behind her. “It’s just work, mom. I’ll be home again in a couple of days.”

“What about Walsh?”

“Walsh and I are fine.” Emma’s grip on the phone tightened. “Really, I’ve gotta go.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay all on your own?” Ingrid asked, not for the first time.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I know, I know. I’m just worried, honey. You know I only want the best for you.”

“Yeah. I know.” The memory of Ingrid giving her a backpack instead of a black bag to keep her things in came to mind. The time she brought Emma shopping for clothes that actually fit her. The endless amount of support she’d shown when Emma decided to study law - ever since Ingrid took Emma in at sixteen, she had wanted nothing but the best for her. “I’ve gotta go now. Bye.”

“Call me when you land, okay? And stay safe. I’m proud of you, Emma. I really am.”

“Yeah, bye mom.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” Emma hung up and slipped her phone in the pocket of her red jacket. Just in time as well; the queue moved forward and Emma handed over her boarding pass and passport to the gate attendant. Without fuss, the woman gave Emma back her papers and let her board the plane.

She passed through business class to economy class, wishing one of those spacious seats with individual TV-screens could have been hers. But Regina - the founder of _Mills’ Associates_ and therefore Emma’s boss - wouldn’t dream of letting Emma enjoy a comfortable seven hours of flight on the company’s expense. Never mind that Regina would never fly anything less than first class herself.

Emma found her row, scooting into her seat by the window after storing her suitcase in the overhead luggage compartment. The guy behind her insisted on helping with her suitcase, but only managed to get on her nerves. It didn’t help that his voice reminded her of Walsh’s.

As the rest of the passengers boarded and found their seats, Emma unlocked her phone to see another notification from none other than Walsh - one more unread message to add to the seven others. And the three voice mails she’d rather not listen to. She swiped the message away and set her phone to flight mode.

With a sigh, Emma shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. Was it too naive to hope for a bit of sleep during the next couple of hours?

Stewardesses passed through the aisle, closing the luggage compartments, and reminding people to buckle their seatbelts. Soon after, the plane began rolling out to the runway. When it picked up speed, Emma tried to quell the rush of butterflies in her stomach. She had flown before, albeit not internationally, but there was no reason to be nervous. Still, would it be too sad if she ordered a drink at nine AM?

The plane took off, leaving John F. Kennedy Airport far below. Emma pressed her forehead against the window, watching New York grow smaller and smaller. She leaned back in her seat again with a sigh. No more running away from her problems - Emma _flew_ away from them now.

It wasn’t like it was her fault that Walsh decided to pop the question right before an important case. Or well, semi-important. Of course, she didn’t _have_ to accept the offer of flying to England two days after Walsh’s proposal. A proposal she never really answered. But here she was, on her way to England to finalize the take-over of a small business.

Emma shut her eyes. She hadn’t slept at all last night. She had tried, but in the end she couldn’t take more tossing and turning. Instead she looked through the files of the case, over and over again until her eyes hurt. It wasn’t necessary; the case was simple as could be. Mary Margaret Blanchard, one of Emma’s co-workers, had worked on it beforehand. But with all the stress of planning her wedding, she’d asked Emma to see the case through and fly to England in her place.

The business in question, _The Brothers Jones_ , designed and produced nautical tools of the old-fashioned type. Compasses, spyglasses, sextants and the likes. Emma’s client, the owner of _Gold’s Antiquities_ , a worldwide corporation, wished to expand his stock with _The Brothers Jones_ ’ intricate replicas. So far, the negotiations with Mr. Jones had gone smoothly.

Emma’s attempt at sleeping, however, went less than smoothly. The couple next to her kept talking, and bustling kids sat in the row behind her. Even if all had been calm and quiet, Emma doubted she would have gotten much sleep.

So, seven boring hours of flight it was then. Emma resorted to reading through the SkyMall magazine and playing games on her phone. She even tuned in to the movie shown on the few overhead screens, weird as it was. A decent flight meal turned out to be too much to ask for as well.

In the end, Emma gave up and bought that small bottle of whiskey. Her best decision that day by far.

* * *

_I’ve landed. It’s nine pm here. Everything’s great. Taking the train northeast now for about four hours. I’ll call you tomorrow._

Emma sent the message to her mom and hovered over the notifications from Walsh. During her flight, he had only left one voice mail and two texts - maybe he was getting the hint. She did feel awful for ignoring him like that. He was a great guy, he didn’t deserve it. But would she ever see him as anything but a great guy? Would she ever see him as a husband? No way. Eight months was big enough a commitment for Emma - marriage was out of the question.

Emma pocketed her phone; she’d deal with Walsh when she got home. After all, this trip would hardly last more than three days. Both of them could use those days to think through everything on their own.

The sun set as the train rolled out of the station. By the time they made it out of London, out amongst open fields, the skies were dark and heavy with clouds. Emma leaned against the window, becoming one with the jolting train. She pulled her jacket tighter around her as low murmurs carried through the compartment, letting her know that she wasn’t alone.

When her eyelids grew too heavy, Emma snuggled closer to the corner of her seat, her breath fogging the cold glass in front of her. Her hair was too tight though; it pulled at her scalp, making it impossible to rest. She undid her ponytail, letting her hair fall in waves around her. Much better.

Finally, her eyes fell shut. In a train headed north, amongst rugged hills and stunning shores, Emma fell asleep at last.

* * *

There were several seats vacant on the late night train. As it picked up speed and rolled out of the small station, a dark-haired man looked at his ticket and the empty seats around him. Any seat was his for the taking.

He wore a black leather coat and carried a satchel over his shoulder and an umbrella in his hand. Outside, the air was damp, leaving his hair ruffled. He brushed a stray lock from his forehead and eyed the seat reserved to him on his ticket.

A woman slept on the seat next to his. She was nothing but a red leather jacket and a mop of blonde curls against the window. Killian looked ahead at the few people sitting together at the front of the compartment. All around were these empty seats with empty seats beside them.

He looked at his ticket once more. Then the seat. And the woman next to it.

Hoisting the satchel over his shoulder and placing it on the luggage rack next to a small suitcase, he made his decision and sat in his designated seat.

The train hurdled through the night. Killian let his eyes close as he leaned back in his seat and soon his head started to lull against the headrest. The people in the front rows ceased their talking and peace settled in the whirring train. He almost fell asleep himself.

But then a sudden weight landed on his shoulder.

Going rigid and opening his eyes at once, Killian looked down to see the former mess of curls against the window now resting on his shoulder. He could do nothing but stare at her.

The woman snuggled against his side, shifting her head ever so little. Even with the lapels of his coat pulled upright, her hair found a way to tickle his throat.

Killian tried gently nudging her back against the window. She didn’t budge.

He tried again, with a bit more force. The woman seemed content on his shoulder though. He thought of waking her, but he knew he wouldn’t do it. And if he pushed her any harder, she’d wake whether he meant it or not.

With a sigh, Killian’s head fell back against the headrest again. He closes his eyes and tried to ease the tension in his body. Surely, she would soon shift in her sleep again.

She didn’t.

The train slowed, stopped and picked up speed again several times. No amount of jostling could wake the woman on his shoulder though. The smell of her hair and the traitorous pounding of his heart kept him awake through every mile, wondering if they had passed her stop.

His shoulder started to ache. For three hours he didn’t move, but let the woman rest against his side. He couldn’t go on like that though. The line had to be drawn somewhere, and missing his stop on purpose because of a sleeping stranger seemed a good place to draw that line.

Killian readied himself to wake her. Or to stand from his seat and hope she slept through it just like she did everything else.

On the count of three, he would do it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Really, it shouldn’t be that difficult. Three. Two. One.

* * *

Emma’s phone rang.

She woke with a jolt at the shrill tone and vibration in her pocket. Woke to find herself leaning against a complete stranger.

 _Shit_.

Emma stared at him, mirroring the surprise in his eyes. Really, _really_ blue eyes.

The phone kept ringing. _Right, the phone. Answer the phone, Emma._ She zipped open the pocket, fussing to grab it while heat rose to her cheeks. The guy kept looking at her.

Emma tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, hovering over the answer button. It was the office, and she should answer it, but a glance at the display in the front of the compartment said that her stop was next. And not just next, but _now_.

She let the ringing die out. She’d call back once she was settled at the inn. Which now left her sitting next to a guy she may or may not have been sleeping on for the past couple of hours.

“It seems rather urgent to be calling you at one hour past midnight.” Dammit. Even his accent was hot. Lilting and English and way too much for Emma’s recently-woken state. She stared at him, letting her brain catch up with the rest of her. If his hair didn’t look so good, ruffled as it was, or his eyes so damn blue and bright it probably wouldn’t have taken so long. “I’d say good morning but I imagine it’s a bit too early for that.”

Emma closed her mouth, remembering herself again. “This is my stop.”

“What a fortunate coincidence - it’s my stop as well.” The stranger smiled, but made no move to get up. Emma kept staring at him. Were British people really that good looking?

_Cool it, Emma. You’ve got a... a Walsh._

“So...” Emma nodded at him, gesturing for him to move. In a flash he remembered himself and got up from his seat, letting her get out as well. He easily removed his satchel from the rack and gave her space to take down her suitcase.

“Just landed from America, I presume?”

“Yeah.” Emma set the suitcase on the floor, pulling up the handle as the train began to slow.

“I’m James Hook by the way.”

“As in Captain Hook?” Emma studied the bulky rings on the hand he held out for her to shake. Interesting choice.

“Aye, but there’s no need for you to call me Captain. Unless you want to of course.”

Emma met his wink with a wry smile. If he’d actually been able to wink without the other eye closing just after, she might have been less tempted to give him a real smile. Her eyes flickered to his hand again, still extended between them. She reached out her own.

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

“Pleased to meet you Emma Swan.” He kept her hand in his for a moment longer than Emma found normal. She half-feared he was going to lift it and kiss it or something equally gallant and British. He let go of it though. “It was a pleasure to serve as your pillow for this late-night ride.”

The heat once again rose to Emma’s cheeks. Her right cheek probably had creases from his leather jacket.

“Yeah... sorry about that,” Emma muttered.

“Don’t worry about it, love.” Hook smiled as the train slowed to a complete stop. He stepped to the side and gestured for her to step forwards towards the opening doors of the compartment. Emma passed him, trailing her suitcase behind her.

The cold air was a relief against her warm cheeks. The roof over the platform sheltered Emma against the drizzle, but the chilly breeze went through her jeans at once.

“Are you staying at Granny’s?” Hook asked as he stepped out beside her, opening an umbrella. Emma inwardly cursed herself; of all the things she had thrown in her suitcase, she forgot to bring an umbrella. Or even a raincoat.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then I suppose this is where our ways part. Unless you’d like me to assist you with a bit of shelter,” Hook raised his umbrella at his offer.

“No, I’m good.”

Hook only smiled, as if he had expected her answer. The train screeched, the wheels slowly turning again before speeding up and rolling out of the station.

“Then I bid you goodnight, Swan. I hope you enjoy your stay - and that you’re able to find rest again without my shoulder to lean on.” With a spark in his eyes and a bow of his head, Hook turned and left Emma alone on the platform.

If she took a moment to admire his backside, well, no one had to know.

Emma shook her head at herself and fished out her phone. Hopefully her data worked in this small town, because she had no idea how to get to the inn without Maps. There was a text from her mother but nothing from Walsh. Emma sighed in relief, but felt guilty nonetheless.

She stepped towards the road while opening the message from Ingrid.

_Happy to hear that all is well. I hope you find England beautiful! You remembered an umbrella, right? Or a rain coat. Please tell me you’re not just wearing your leather jacket. Anyways, it must be late for you! I hope you sleep well! Call me when you wake up, okay? Love you._

Emma laughed. Of course her mother knew that Emma would forget all practical things for her trip.

* * *

Willesby was a small village amongst hills near the shore of North East England. The decorative lampposts and the old, stone houses had their charm but used to the bustling of New York, Emma found the quiet eerie. It could be the drizzle that just made everything seem dismal. And the lone sounds of her footsteps and her suitcase rolling behind her.

Emma found the inn with little trouble, save for trying to keep her phone dry. A small light showed through the window. Emma tried the door and found it unlocked, thankfully. The office secretary had said arrangements were made for her late arrival. Emma checked the time again. A quarter past one. She felt sorry for whoever had to stay up for her.

The reception room was empty. Heavy carpets lay on the floor and paintings and portraits adorned every wall. Only a lit lamp on the desk and light spilling in from the cracks of the door behind it hinted at any life.

Emma admired the quaintness of it all. So far, everything was as old-fashioned and British as she had expected. Even the rain was on point.

Emma strolled to the desk, mindful of keeping her steps quiet. A bell stood on the counter. By its side were a few pamphlets and maps of the local area and hiking trails. A pamphlet about _The Brothers Jones_ caught her eye. For a factory business, the building sure was of fine architecture. Emma took a pamphlet and put it her pocket. She looked about once more, noticing the stairs that probably led to the rooms, before ringing the bell with a bop of her hand.

A few seconds later, the door behind the desk opened and a short, round man with glasses and a moustache came out.

“Good evening, Miss!” He seemed cheery enough for a guy who had to stay up past midnight for a single customer.

“Good evening. I’m Emma Swan, I should be registered for a room under _Mills’ Associates_.”

“Ah yes, of course, of course. The American lawyer. Welcome to Willesby!” The innkeeper turned a page in his logbook and found the papers for Emma to sign as she handed over her identification.

“Thank you for staying up for me.”

“Oh, it is no trouble at all. I am only sad you must see our village when such sorrowful times have come upon us.”

“What do you mean?” Emma frowned as she handed back the paper with her signature.

“Why the passing of Barrie Jones of course. He meant a great deal to our village. Who knows where we would be if he hadn’t taken on his father’s and uncle’s business - and inspired such flourish at that.”

“What?” Emma stared at the innkeeper with wide eyes. “Mr. Jones is dead?”

“You didn’t know? Why that must be quite the shock then, of course. I’m afraid he passed away last night.” The innkeeper’s face wrinkled with sorrow.

“I... I’m so sorry to hear that.” Emma didn’t know what else to say. How could she not have been told that Mr. Jones was dead? Did the office not know?

 _Dammit_. The call on the train. Regina probably called to inform her of Mr. Jones’ passing so she didn’t act like a tactless idiot - like now. She’d have to call Regina back straight away. Knowing her boss, she was going to be pissed.

“As are we all, Miss Swan. Most sorry indeed. But here is your key - room 6. Up the stairs just here, around the corner, straight forward and it’s the second door to your left.” The innkeeper handed Emma her key, a bulky one with a wooden tag on which a fine 6 was drawn.

“Thank you.”

“No trouble at all, Miss Swan. I am sure you are eager to rest after a long day of travel. We serve breakfast upstairs in the room by the staircase from seven to nine o’clock. If you have any questions or complaints, feel free to ask. Would you like a hand with your suitcase?”

Emma declined his offer with a smile and a thank you, letting him close for the night.

“Goodnight, Miss Swan.”

“Goodnight.”

Emma carried her suitcase up the stairs, found her room with ease and sighed when she could finally lock the door behind her and know that all travel was done for the day. Now all she had to do was call Regina.

And just like she thought, Regina was pissed.

“Are you going to make a habit out of not answering your phone, because if so I would very much like to know.”

Emma was glad to be thousands of miles away from Regina right then.

“I’m sorry, Regina, I was busy getting off the train when you called. But what do we do now that Mr. Jones is dead?”

“Do you really need me to help you through every slight problem? Mr. Jones’ death is most unfortunate, but we made provisions for just such a sad eventuality and we know that there was no heir,” Regina’s firm voice cut clear through the phone, she might as well have been right in front of Emma with her disapproving glare.

“Yes, but -”

“Where’s the problem, Miss Swan? Contact the notary first thing tomorrow, show him the files and do your work. Mr. Jones consented to the sale of the business; it really shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“Right. I’ll handle it.”

“I expect you to.”

Emma was about to say goodbye and hang up, but Regina cut her short.

“Mr. Jones’ funeral is tomorrow. There will be a memorial in the evening, and I want you to attend. Give your condolences on behalf of the firm and Mr. Gold and try not to make a fool out of yourself. Goodbye, Miss Swan. Call me when you have an update.”

“Bye.” Emma hurried to hang up. Just knowing she’d robbed Regina of the satisfaction of hanging up fist counted as a victory.

With a sigh, Emma laid her phone on the bedside table and fell back on the soft mattress. She wanted nothing more than to just pull off her boots and jacket, crawl under the covers and sleep for several days.

When the heavenly moment came and she could finally turn off the light and snuggle under the duvet, Emma felt wide awake. _Of course_.

It had been easy to fall asleep on the jostling train. Here it was too quiet. Nothing could dampen her thoughts as they went haywire. Walsh was probably pissed at her. Her mother would be calling every hour tomorrow, eager to hear every detail about Willesby. And not only did she have to deal with the notary, she had to attend a memorial where no one knew her and probably just saw her as the ‘American lawyer’. There to sell their treasured local business to a rich, American company.

Emma groaned and turned to rest on her other side.

Blue eyes and a smug grin interrupted her thoughts. _Hook._ For how long exactly did he let her sleep on him? And why did his stupid good looks keep invading her thoughts?

Emma groaned and turned again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the positive response! I know you've got a lot of questions, and some should hopefully be answered in this chapter, but first, I just want to give another massive thanks to my beta forget-me-not-s, and the lovely three artists theblackswan, fairytalesandtimetravel and optomisticgirl! check out theblackswan's beautiful picture for chapter 1 [here](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/post/164622774171/killian-looked-down-to-see-the-former-mess-of)! And optomosticgirl's awesome banner [here](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/164604063262/when-the-tide-turns-by)! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Old roads and crooked alleyways shaped the bones of Willesby. Brick houses lined the streets, the Jones’ factory standing tall at the outskirts of the village. In daylight, Emma could see the ocean beyond the hills. The true charm of Willesby though, sparked from the nautical decorations that gave life to the bleak façades all around. A ship’s wheel hanging here and there, oars hanging above doors, a large compass chiselled into stone, and a ship at Emma’s height carved out of one block of wood. The innkeeper had been right when he said that _The Brothers Jones_ had given life to the village. Their love of the sea had made a port town out of the streets amongst the hills.

The notary’s office looked much the same. Rich red wood dominated most of the room. Not just the floor, but the panelling on the wall, the furniture, the doors and even the picture frames. In contrast, paintings of the sea in all its colours adorned the walls. On Mr. Clark’s desk stood a model of a ship, _The Brothers Jones_ painted on its hull.

“Do take a seat, Miss Swan. Please.” Mr. Clark, a short man with an obvious sniffle sat behind his desk, waving Emma into the room.

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” Emma sat in one of the two lavish chairs by Mr. Clark’s desk.

“Of course, I was waiting for you! I received a fax from your office yesterday, outlining the situation.”

“Great.” Emma’s terse smile was one she reserved for lawyer meetings. She dropped it after a split second. “We were very sorry to hear of Mr. Jones’ passing.” _And pretty damn shocked too._

“It is indeed tragic. Barrie was a good friend of mine.” Mr. Clark ran a finger over the hull of the model ship. “It frightens us all when a healthy man suddenly dies at 74, doesn’t it?”

Emma didn’t know what to answer. She resorted to nodding.

“About the business, Mr. Clark, the negotiations of the sale between Mr. Jones and my client were almost finished, so I trust that you and I will be able to conclude it?” She hated to come across as crass, but the death of a man she had never met wasn’t an easy topic. She had come here to finish a case - now was the time to do it.

“Don’t set your hopes too high, Miss Swan. I’m afraid it won’t be as straightforward as we had thought, and I probably won’t be of much help to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma narrowed her eyes at the solicitor. “I thought everything was agreed. We have Barrie Jones’ written consent and his death does nothing to invalidate that.”

Mr. Clark swiped at his nose with a tissue. “I understand, Miss Swan. But there’s an unforeseen complication.” His choice of words felt overdone coming from his mouth. Too formal for a small guy like him. Mr. Clark cleared his throat and hesitated through his next sentence while Emma kept her irritation from showing. “You see, there’s an heir.”

“An heir?” She must have misheard him. “We were told there was no heir. Mr. Jones never married and he definitely never mentioned this ‘detail’ throughout the negotiations.”

“I was as surprised as you are, believe me. Everyone thought Barrie Jones was the last of the family alive, but he sent me a letter two days before his death, saying otherwise. Understand, Miss Swan, that had I known about this earlier, I would’ve informed you.”

So far he had had three days to inform Emma or her office of this letter. Emma fought not to call him out on his laziness. Mr. Clark coughed as he retrieved the letter from his desk drawer, handing it over to Emma.

“So who is this heir? I suppose I’ll just have to sign the contracts with him or her, right?”

“Liam Jones; Barrie’s nephew. Brennan - that is, Liam’s father - didn’t always see eye to eye with Barrie, so Liam never lived here in Willesby. He was an adventurous sailor though. Here in Willesby, we always thought he died in an accident on the sea about nine years ago. Apparently, we were wrong,” Mr. Clark gestured towards the letter.

Emma had read about Brennan in her files. The older of the two brothers, he had been meant to take over the family business, or at least run it with his brother Barrie. The factory hadn’t interested Brennan though. He had left Willesby, and died about twenty years ago. But Emma’s files had never mentioned any Liam.

“So where can I find Liam Jones?”

Mr. Clark blew his nose again, and Emma had an odd sense he was trying to hide behind his tissue.

“I don’t know, Miss Swan. All I know is written in that letter, and Barrie only wrote that he had corresponded with Liam for several years. He seems to be travelling around Europe.”

_Travelling around Europe_. Well, that narrowed it down. Emma unfolded the letter in her hand, skimming Mr. Jones’ words. There wasn’t much information she could use. First two paragraphs of how old Barrie had started to feel. Then a couple of sentences about Liam, a man everyone had presumed dead; nothing specific about his whereabouts.

“Now, I have told you as much as I know, and so the situation in legal terms should be clear. If you want to conclude the sale, you have to find Liam Jones. Believe me, Miss Swan, when I say that I am most sorry for this regrettable setback. Most sorry.”

“Great.” Emma was as insincere as Mr. Clark’s apologies. “What now then?”

“Perhaps you will find more information in Barrie’s office? I have a key here. Two actually,” Mr. Clark fumbled for the keys in his desk drawer before handing them to Emma. “One for the factory and one for the office. I believe my role in this affair finishes here, Miss Swan. If you’ll excuse me, I must rest. You see, my health is not excellent at the moment and my doctor forbids me from working for too long. It’s been a pleasure, Miss Swan. Do not forget to close the door as you leave.”

And like that, Mr. Clark rose to leave the office through a side door, Emma barely managing to say goodbye before he was gone. She stayed in her chair for a moment longer.

_An heir._ Her mind clung to the word, as if saying it enough times would make it untrue. There was an heir _somewhere in Europe_ , an heir she needed to find if she wanted to conclude this case.

With a sigh, Emma rose from her chair and left the office. Dark clouds greeted her outside, and she fought to keep herself from kicking a lamp post out of frustration. Instead, she followed the road to its end, towards the Jones’ factory.

She did not look forward to calling Regina about this.

* * *

The lock gave a last satisfying click before Killian removed the lock picks. Still crouching, he tugged the handle and pushed the door open with a wide grin. It only took him a minute this time; he was getting better at this lock-picking-business.

Killian stood in the doorway for a moment, holding his breath as he looked around the office. He had only been there once before. How old had he been then? Eight? Nine? It had been shortly after his father’s death - that much he remembered. As a child, when Barrie let him enter his office, Killian had felt humbled. Much like then, he now felt like he was intruding on something much greater than he could ever become.

Killian swallowed his uncertainty and stepped over the threshold. Barrie’s desk stood to the left, a great painting of the original brothers Jones on the wall behind it. Matthew Jones, Killian’s great-grandfather, stood proud beside his younger brother Michael.

Two windows framed the painting and let light into the office. His uncle wasn’t a tidy man, that much was clear. Piles of papers littered his desk, some with only a few notes written on them, others with sketches or elaborate drawings. Books lay open and a pen lay ready for scribbling, as if Barrie had only left for a short moment.

The object Killian sought wasn’t on the desk though. He pulled out every drawer on each side of the desk only to find more drawings of boats and compasses and even constellations. Killian ruffled through all the papers, hoping to find something underneath.

With pursed lips, he closed the final drawer and looked at the desk again. What an utter mess. A spindle stacked with bills caught his eye. He wasn’t here to look through papers, yet the bold letters on the bills intrigued him.

**Overdue**

Killian leafed through each invoice, all of them informing his uncle Barrie of overdue payments and stressing the financial liability of the factory. Killian’s brows stitched together. Did the business really struggle that much? And what would become of it now that Barrie had passed away, leaving behind all this debt? The entire business would probably be sold off and torn down. Killian tried to ignore the several regrets looming at the back of his mind. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he found that bloody trinket.

On the other side of the room stood a file cabinet, as wide as the wall behind it. Killian had no interest in going through more papers though.

Instead, Killian turned to the cabinet against the wall opposite of the door. It was as rich in its design as the desk. Books lined the shelves, along with several trinkets; model ships, an octant, even a souvenir of the London Eye. If the item Killian sought wasn’t here, it wasn’t in the office at all.

He studied each shelf carefully, skimming the spines of maritime textbooks and old classics. One classic in particular caught his attention: _Peter and Wendy_. Killian grinned, remembering his uncle’s fascination of Peter Pan and Neverland. After all, the stories had been what started this whole mess in the first place.

Killian pulled the book out of its place with a finger on its top. His tug was met with resistance and a subtle click. Killian’s grin only grew wider as the mechanism activated.

_What a classic way to hide your secrets, uncle._

The back of the shelf lifted, revealing a hidden space behind it. A space once again littered with both everything and nothing. Killian pulled out old photographs, a teddy bear that had seen better days, a battered notebook and several drawings. The shelf was a mess of rubbish to put it lightly. Items of no value to anyone but Barrie.

Killian shifted through the trinkets and papers, hoping _it_ would be there. Hiding one item of value amidst unimportant things was exactly the kinds of thing his uncle would do. That way, it could easily be overlooked by any thieves or nosy guests. He just had to -

_There._

Killian almost laughed, so thrilled to have found it at last. He grasped the round trinket, studying its beauty for a mere moment before tucking it into a pocket of his leather jacket. Finally feeling the weight of it by his side, Killian could rest easy. He looked at the mess on the shelf one last time, his eyes flickering towards a pile of letters.

He knew that handwriting.

Killian reached for the bundle of letters, three in total, with an unsure hand. _Liam_. They were letters from Liam. He admired the familiar writing on the envelopes, forgetting his former purpose. No matter how much he had tried, Liam was not something he could push away and ignore.

A clang from outside the office startled Killian.

_Bloody hell_.

The stairs from the work floor to the office - they were of metal grid. That clang meant someone was coming.

Killian’s eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. The office was on the second floor, he couldn’t possibly jump from the window.

The footsteps were getting closer. Killian glanced at the door, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no way out. Whoever entered the door in a few seconds would find him like a deer caught in the headlights - or more accurately, an intruder caught red-handed.

He stuffed the letters in his coat, looked around one last time and made a quick decision.

_Bloody buggering hell._

* * *

Emma leaned her head back to take in the building as she stood by its door. There was something gothic about the architecture. Maybe gothic wasn’t the right word, but she had never paid much attention in her few choice lectures on architecture. The Jones factory was a grand building, that much she could vouch for. With dark bricks, arched windows and doors, wings on each side and endless details, it might as well have been some sort of cathedral.

Emma chose the bigger of the two keys, sliding it into the lock. She felt odd turning it. The click of the door unlocking and the creaking as she opened it urged her to cringe. She had a key - even explicit permission from the notary - yet she still felt guilty. Like she was breaking and entering. A chill ran through her at the thought.

The door opened to a large open room with miles to the ceiling, or so it seemed. Emma stood in the doorway for a moment, soaking everything in. An assembly line twisted its way through the room with different machines at each station. Pipes followed the line about, creating a net of metal a few feet above Emma’s head.

It certainly looked like a factory. Emma had wondered how compasses and sextants and the likes were made. She had imagined by hand. Like an old-clock worker. The Jones factory was just one large platform, a mixture of machines and tables where workers could do their thing.

Emma wandered about for a few minutes, imagining what the place looked like when the engines were running, the large furnaces in the corner sparking with heat. She almost forgot her initial purpose.

_Right. The office._ _Find the office._

To the right of the main door, a stair led to a gangway with a nice view of the entire factory. The stairs also led to a door, which _had_ to lead to the office.

Against the factory floor, Emma’s steps had been muffled. But against the metal grid of the stairs, clangs echoed throughout the entire building - a stark reminder of how silent the place was. No factory should ever feel this abandoned without even the whirring of an engine. It was like all life had just vanished.

Emma pulled the second key - the smaller one - out of her pocket and slid it into the door lock. Turning it to the left, she heard no click. To the right instead, she heard the wrong sort of click. Emma tugged at the door handle and her suspicions were confirmed. The door had been unlocked before - now it wouldn’t budge. Emma turned the key again. Maybe Mr. Jones wasn’t a stickler for privacy?

Finally, the door gave way and Emma stepped into Barrie Jones’ office. She noticed the sun first. It had found its way through the dark clouds, leaving two long stripes of light on the floor by each window. A few papers lay strewn about. They had probably fallen off of the clutter on the desk. Emma’s face fell at the thought off all those papers she’d have to go through. In addition, there was a file cabinet the size of the entire wall on the other side of the room.

_Here’s to hoping he at least organizes his mess_.

Emma stood in the centre of the office for a moment, letting her eyes gloss over everything. A painting of two well-dressed men hung on the wall between the windows. The original brothers Jones perhaps? She studied them for a second, squinting her eyes against the light-

The desk chair shifted. The screech of wooden legs against wooden floor lingered. _What the hell?_

Emma narrowed her eyes at the desk. “Someone there?”

No one answered. Emma kept her eyes on the back of the desk. Whoever hiding there wasn’t doing a very good job. But _why_ was someone hiding there? She was about to say something again or walk over to the desk and expose who ever hid there when the chair shifted once more.

“Swan?”

A head of dark hair popped up from under the desk.

“ _Hook?_ ”

He looked as surprised as she felt.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you, love.”

“Hey, I had a key. You’re... hiding under a desk.”

Hook, still crouched on the floor, surveyed the desk with amusement. “Not as much hiding as enjoying the view. You’ll find that the spaces under desks are quite riveting here in England.”

This guy was full of crap.

Hook scooted the chair further backwards and stood tall behind the desk. Emma’s eyes flickered between him and the men in the painting behind him, a part of her noticing an odd resemblance. The thought was fleeting though.

Hook surveyed Emma as she surveyed him. A challenge sparked between them. Who would explain themselves first?

“You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who hides under tables.”

“Then what kind of man _did_ I strike you as?” He dodged her meaning with a lewd grin.

“A cheeky bastard,” Emma deadpanned. He laughed at that. “Seriously, how did you even get in here? The door to the building was locked and I didn’t see any open windows.”

“I have my ways,” Hook wiggled his fingers in the air. Emma narrowed her eyes at him again. She hadn’t slept on the shoulder of some criminal had she?

“What are you doing here?” She kept her voice low and level, turning on her lawyer persona.

Hook feigned a sigh and walked around the desk to stand in front of it as he spoke. “If you must know, Swan, I was merely looking around. My father used to be great friends with Barrie. I’m simply interested in learning about the man I’m here to pay respects to on the behalf of my departed father.”

Something ticked inside Emma. Something was off about his words, but she couldn’t place it.

“I panicked a bit when I heard someone coming - wasn’t sure how they would take my snooping about.” A faint blush tinted his cheeks. “The desk seemed the best choice. Precautions and all.” He reached up to scratch a spot behind his ear as he spoke. Then he leaned against the desk behind him, crinkling a few papers as he did so, and raised a brow at Emma. “So, it’s tit for tat, I believe. What’s your story?”

Emma studied him for a moment longer, trying to see why her lie detector was going off. He seemed sincere enough in his words. Something was just... off.

“I’m a lawyer,” she started. “I’m here to finish the sale of the business.”

Hook’s eyes widened for a moment but he was quick to conceal his surprise. Not before Emma noticed though.

“I suppose that’s rather hard to do with Barrie deceased,” he said.

_You have no idea_ _,_ Emma thought.

“It complicates things...” She paused, realizing that Hook’s sudden presence could be a great help to her. “Hey, if you say your dad knew Barrie well, did he ever mention a Liam Jones? Barrie’s nephew?”

Hook swallowed and shook his head slightly. “Not much. He died at sea about a decade ago, didn’t he?”

He fidgeted ever so little, but enough for Emma to see. He was hiding something. Definitely.

“No, not really. But I guess I have to start looking through all the papers in here to figure out more.” Her shoulders dropped in a show of exhaustion.

“Important for the sale, is he?”

Emma smiled, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Afraid I can’t tell.”

“Ah, of course. Lawyers and their confidentiality.”

“At least not until you tell me what it is you’re not telling me,” Emma finished.

“Pardon?”

“You’re hiding something. What is it?”

Hook challenged her by mirroring her stance, arms folded and brows raised. “What makes you so sure I’m hiding something?”

“You wouldn’t be so defensive if you weren’t.” She’d rather not have to explain her superpower to him.

Hook gave up the challenge quicker than she had expected. He dropped the teasing look and uncrossed his arms. When he reached into his pocket, Emma’s back stiffened. She didn’t _really_ think he was keeping something harmful. Still. Precautions and all.

“In truth, Swan, this is why I’m here.”

Emma looked at the object in his hand, carefully held out for her to see.

“A compass?”

“Aye. Not just any compass though,” Hook kept his eyes on it as he spoke, running his thumb over the glass. “My father gave it to Barrie once long ago. I never completely understood the significance of it, but it meant a great deal to my old man”

“So you’re stealing it.”

“I do have the name of a pirate, don’t I?” Hook grinned. And _dammit_ , Emma couldn’t help but smile too. Just a little. She _barely_ even lifted the corners of her mouth.

“I’m not proud of the way I handled the situation when I heard you coming, but in all honesty, I don’t think I could have been more relieved than I was when I heard that American accent of yours.” There he was again with the smarmy words.

“I just told you I’m a lawyer. Shouldn’t you be scared I’m going to hand you over to the cops or something?”

“Will you?”

His stare feigned honest wonder, but he clearly didn’t believe she would. What made him so sure of that? Emma held his stare for a few seconds before shrugging.

“Not really worth it. No one else is gonna find much use of that thing but you, so I guess I can let it slide.”

“I am most grateful, Swan,” Hook bowed his head at her and tucked the compass back into his jacket.

“Yeah, well, you should probably get going before I change my mind.”

He gave her look that easily read ‘ _you wouldn’t dare’._ Nonetheless, he pushed away from the desk and almost made to leave.

“Could I be of any assistance with looking through all the papers?”

Emma smiled. “Nah. You know, ‘lawyers and their confidentiality’ and all that.”

Hook’s lips curled in a grin. Once again, he nodded his head at Emma.

“I’ll see you around then, Swan.”

She wanted to ask why he was so sure of that, but remembered he would probably be at the memorial in the evening as well. Furthermore, he was already on his way through the door.

“Stay out of trouble ‘till then,” she called after him.

“I’ll do my best.” Hook closed the door with one last cheeky smile. His descent down the stairs rattled the office and echoed even when all went silent again. Emma stood in the office alone, trying to gather her thoughts. And motivation. She probably could have used an extra hand for all these papers. She’d look for letters first, that would at least narrow it down. And a list of workers at the factory - Barrie couldn’t possibly be running everything on his own.

Emma set to work, finding a quiet rhythm, glad to at least be doing _something_. If only her cheeks would cool down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: what's emma gonna find in the office, and what's gonna happen at the memorial?
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's finally friday again! yay! i hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> and as always, a huge thank you to my beta forget-me-not-s, and the three wonderful artists, theblacksiren, fairytalesandtimetravel and optomisticgirl :)

If she found one more drawing of a boat, Emma was going to scream.

She had started at the desk, sorting out Barrie’s scribbles, the star charts in the drawers and the endless drawings of boats -  _ships_. So far, the only interesting thing she had found was the pile of invoices pierced on a spindle. No wonder Barrie had agreed to sell his family business - the man was drowning in debts. Old-fashioned nautical instruments just weren’t in fashion lately.

Although the business’ economy was interesting, it wasn’t relevant to Emma’s current case. Unless Liam’s whereabouts were scribbled on the back of the bills.

Emma sighed for about the hundredth time when she finally pushed away from the desk. She could use a laptop and some internet, searching for Liam in a more modern way. Neither was at hand though. And she had a feeling Liam wasn’t documenting his life on Facebook or Instagram.

Emma crossed the room to the file cabinet. With a silent thank you she found the papers well-organized, though no files were specifically labelled “Liam’s whereabouts”. That would have been too easy anyways. Instead, she found a list of employees at the factory, though rather short. Three factory workers, two assistants and one cleaner. It seemed Barrie carried most of the load, designing and engineering the goods and dealing with the sales. A lot of work for one man. Perhaps all the stress had been what did him in. Emma shook her head of speculations and forced herself to continue leafing through the files.

Hours passed, the clouds darkening once again. Emma turned on the lights and fought the urge to go on a coffee-run. She didn’t have long until the memorial started, and she didn’t want to leave this office until she found at least one clue. She could really use some coffee though. Or anything sugary.

The file cabinet was a dead-end. No Liam, no personal files, nothing at all.

Emma turned to wooden cabinet lined with books. Her last hope for this room. Upon studying the tomes and the various ornaments, Emma noticed one of the shelves was deeper than the others. A secret compartment? She reached into the mess, grabbing the first thing her fingers touched - a photograph. The black-and-white picture showed two boys by the beach. Turning the photograph over, Barrie’s scribbles read on the back,  _Brennan and I at the beach, 1952_.

Emma grabbed another photograph, this one in colour. Once again, two boys stood by the shore, their backs to the camera. One had curly hair and stood a head taller than the other with ruffled, dark hair. On the back, Barrie had written  _Liam and Killian on our visit to the beach, 1992_.

Emma double-checked.  _Liam_. Finally seeing his name somewhere in the office took a while to sink in. Of course, it was nothing but an old photograph, but at least she had found something that indicated Liam even existed. She glanced at the picture again - was he the taller or the shorter one? And who was Killian?

Emma snapped a photo of the picture with her phone and noted ‘who’s Killian?’ before setting it aside. She looked through more of the mess on the shelf, but nearly everything was from Barrie’s own childhood. She did find a letter, but it was from some Marco Amendola, dated 1996.

Underneath the mess, at the very bottom, Emma found a thick, leather-bound album. She replaced a music box before digging the album out. A string tied the book together and loose papers stuck out here and there. Emma weighed the album in her hand and decided to check it out - over there in the comfortable-looking armchair in the corner of the room. She grabbed the music box too - she hadn’t used one of those since she was a kid.

Buckets of tension eased off Emma’s shoulders when she leaned back in the plush cushions. She winded the music box and set it on the table, letting it play its melody. It was sweet. Kind of like a lullaby. Whether it was the rustic plinging of the music box or the melody itself, there was something mournful about the tune. What made it so significant to Barrie that he had kept it?

Turning to the album instead, Emma unbound the book to find a drawing -  _of a ship_.

She almost threw the book to the floor. She would have, if she hadn’t caught the signature in the bottom right corner.

_Liam Jones_.

Emma turned the page, one more and yet another.  _Liam Jones_. His signature was on each and every drawing. Some portrayed objects like compasses, quills, machines and swords. Others were of yet more ships, but trains too. Others again were stunning pictures of landscapes or cities.

All of them were drawn by Liam Jones.

Emma’s lips stretched into a small successful smile. Liam hadn’t communicated with Barrie through letters - he had sent his uncle drawings. Drawings of the different places he visited throughout his travels around Europe. Emma recognized the Eiffel Tower, traditional Dutch windmills, that famous church in Barcelona, the leaning tower of Pisa and a few other landmarks. Most of the drawings, though surprisingly stunning, didn’t ring any bells though. But she could figure them out.

The urge to pound her fist in the air with joy was strong. She had practically found a trail of breadcrumbs! Granted, she couldn’t be sure that Liam had been to all of these places, but Barrie’s letter to Mr. Clark did say that he was travelling around Europe. If only Liam had written dates on each drawing and specific locations on the unknown landscapes. Emma would have to trust that the drawings had been placed in the album chronologically. Which meant - Emma turned to the last drawing - that some jungle was Liam’s latest destination. Were there even jungles in Europe?

A text chiming in from Ingrid made Emma realize the time. She had about forty minutes to get back to the inn, change into something more suitable and get to the memorial if she didn’t want to be late. The text from Ingrid was swiped away, unanswered.

Emma closed the album and tied the string around it again. Her spirits were a lot higher now than when she left the notary, a thrill settling in her steps. She brought the music box back to its place in the cabinet and looked about the messy office one last time. Well, it had been messy when she came, no one would expect her to clean it all up…

Emma made it back to her room at the inn before ten minutes had passed. She tossed Liam’s album on her bed and rushed to dig out a long-sleeved black dress from her suitcase. Thank god she had thought to pack a formal outfit in the colour befitting a memorial. Sure, it was on the tight side, but it would do.

With twenty minutes to spare, Emma couldn’t resist the urge to look through Liam’s drawings again. She couldn’t quite believe her luck. Of course, with all the various cities and landscapes Liam had drawn, her field of search hadn’t narrowed down by much, but at least she had some sort of lead now.

Emma stopped leafing through the drawings when one in particular caught her eyes. Every other drawing was of objects or landscapes. But this one showed a woman. So far, Emma hadn’t seen any people in Liam’s drawings. The brunette sat in a windowsill with a view of meadows and mountains behind her. Captured in a moment on paper, she sat reading a book, tendrils of hair falling across her cheek.

Emma turned the page to find Liam’s writing on the back of it.  _Belle French,_  it said. A word was scribbled underneath it, but Emma couldn’t quite decipher it.  _Vobdilene?_   _Vabdilane?_

Time was ticking and Emma knew she had to get going. She was stuck staring at the name though. A real lead.

_Belle French_.

* * *

The heat was bloody unbearable. The entire village - if not more - was stuffed inside the town hall. Even the biggest venue in the village wasn’t big enough. Everyone mingled about, rubbing elbows and plastering polite smiles on their faces. Killian was fed up with wearing that mask.

A drink of scotch in hand - Barrie’s favourite and therefore the only alcohol served - Killian slid out of a door to the garden behind the town hall. No one saw him leave. If they did, no one cared anyways. He was a stranger to them.  _James Hook_.

Killian shared a smile with the dark yard. Not out of happiness. Rather out of self-loathing, but that seemed to be the custom lately. He took a long drink of his scotch, trying not to imagine the anger in Barrie’s face if he could see Killian now. After all, always seeing Killian with a drink in his hand was the reason Barrie had cut him off.

_Sorry, uncle._

The murmurs of people sharing praising stories about Barrie or comforting words carried through the door and windows. Killian stepped further into the garden, away from the bright lights.

At last the breeze seeped through his leather coat, cooling down the warmth in his cheeks as well. The further he went out in the garden, the more peace finally settled. He reached the trees and the bushes by the fence, unable to go any further. He could barely see his own hand in the darkness. Gulping the last of the whiskey was no problem though.

“... I’m outside now, I can hear you.”

Killian’s ears perked up, his head flying towards the sound.  _He knew that voice..._ The dark made it hard to see, but she stood near the light of the glass door and there was no mistaking that blonde hair and that American accent. Swan held her phone to her ear, oblivious to Killian standing there by the trees. He’d better not let her see him or she’d really start to think he was a creep.

“It could be better, you know, I could have the contracts signed and be on my way home tomorrow, but well, I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had a longer adventure,” Swan spoke, her words carrying through the garden loud enough for Killian to hear. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the way things were, he couldn’t really go anywhere. Besides, an insight to what Swan knew could be useful. He had the letters from Liam to Barrie - had she found anything else in the office?

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be home in time for the wedding, Mary Margaret. Finding a guy somewhere in Europe definitely can’t take more than three weeks.” The sarcasm was clear, but so was her intent on being home in time for -  _a wedding_? Surely not her own. He hadn’t seen any rings on her fingers.

Killian ignored whatever it was that prickled inside. He blamed the scotch. And glared at the empty glass in his hand.

“I think I’ve found some sort of clue actually.” Killian stood as still as possible, waiting for Swan to tell this Mary Margaret more. “I haven’t had the time to dig deeper yet, but it’s the only thing I’ve got so far - the notary wasn’t especially helpful.”

Swan paused as her friend spoke.

“Actually, could you do a quick search for me? The internet here is pretty bad and you know, right now I’m sorta stuck at this memorial.” Mary Margaret seemed to accept as Swan continued. “I think Liam spent time with some woman named Belle French - I’m not sure where, because his writing is terrible, but it starts with a V and it might be something like Vobdilene or Vabdilene, I don’t know.”

Killian furrowed his brows. What the hell was Vabdilene? And who was Belle French? He shifted his feet, rustling the fallen leaves.  _Bloody hell_. Like a dear caught in headlights, he stood ready for Swan to notice him. Why the bloody hell had he moved anyways?

Swan didn’t turn towards him. She didn’t notice a single thing. Fortunately.

“Yeah, just send me a text or call me if you find anything. Thank you so much, Mary Margaret.”

Her friend must have said something funny, because Swan started laughing and Killian once again had to blame the scotch for doing something funny.

“Well, I should probably let you get back to all that wedding planning. How’s David by the way?”

_Ah, the wedding must be Mary Margaret’s_. Killian wasn’t relieved, of course not. The only relief he felt was that Swan seemed to be wrapping up the phone call and soon he could stop hiding amongst the trees.

Swan’s shoulders tensed and she rubbed her temple with her hand. “My mom’s already nagged me enough about Walsh, I don’t need you starting too. Things are fine - at least they will be. I just need a quick break.”

Walsh? Whoever he was, Swan didn’t seem too fond of him if her frown was anything to go by.

“I should really get going though, Mary Margaret. I’ve got a room full of people with stories about the Jones family and I’ve got  _a lot_ of questions. Talk to you later, okay? Don’t drown yourself in wedding plans.” Killian couldn’t see her face, but he could hear a smile as she said her farewells to her friend. After she’d hung up, however, her shoulders dropped and Killian guessed that her smile dropped too.

The garden felt much smaller once Swan stopped talking. He could still hear the crowd inside, but Killian forced himself to stand as still as possible in the quiet. No more sudden shifting and risking the rustling leaves again.

Swan looked around the garden, gazing at nothing. Light caught her eyes as they swept over the trees where he stood. Killian prepared a feasible excuse for when she noticed him. She looked right through him though. A moment later, she turned around to head back inside, her ponytail swinging in the air behind her.

Killian finally relaxed. Once again, it was just him, alone in the darkness with an empty glass. Definitely for the best - he doubted she would have accepted his tale about scotch best being drunk amongst trees.

The need for a refill was his excuse for heading back inside in the end. He could stick around the memorial for just an hour more. Maybe less. Then he could go back to his room at Granny’s with a clear conscious. He needed to do some research of his own on this Belle French.

* * *

Everyone greeted Emma with an “oh, you’re that American lawyer” every time she introduced herself. Some were intrigued. Others had trouble hiding their contempt towards a foreigner buying into their village. Emma cared not if they liked her though - she only cared if it meant they withheld information from her, deliberately trying to hinder her.

“I remember the Jones boys well from when they visited twenty years ago,” a woman who called herself Granny said. She had narrowed her eyes at Emma at first, but didn’t mind telling a few tales now. “Quite the pair they were - thick as thieves. You’d never have guessed what they’d been through when you saw them running around together.”

Granny wasn’t the first Emma had questioned about the Jones family who mentioned two boys. By now, Emma had guessed that Killian was Liam’s brother. Younger brother. Which meant Liam was the taller boy with curly hair in the photograph she had found.

“You mean about their father?” Emma asked.

“Brennan’s death was the best thing that could’ve had happened to them.” Granny had no shame in her words. Even less than the rest of the villagers. “Of course, if he had gotten his head out of the bottle for once, that would have been the best thing to happen, but everyone here knows that that was only wishful thinking. He was a drunk and a terrible father. Not even losing his wife to an early grave can excuse that.” The old woman swallowed a mouthful of scotch. Maybe the soon-to-be empty glass in her hand had played a part in her loose tongue this evening. “But what’s got your nose poking about the Jones boys anyways? You should know they’re both far gone.”

Granny’s stare wasn’t terribly uncomfortable - it reminded Emma of Ingrid in some sense. Ingrid trying to wheedle confessions out of Emma.

“I’m just interested” Emma shrugged. “There seems to be a lot of history in the Jones family.” She knew not to divulge too much of the case. The news of Liam being alive was bound to get out sooner or later, but she’d rather test the waters with these people before straight-out telling them.

“You’ll find there’s history in every family.” Granny let her words hang in the air, looking at Emma over the rim of her glasses.

Emma met her stare head-on. Granny seemed to like that. “Of course, not every family has to do with your case. I’m afraid I don’t know much about the Jones’ though. Not more than most. They’ve been plagued by falling-outs, alcoholism and death, they have. First Brennan’s wife, then Brennan himself, poor Liam and now Barrie.” Granny took another swig of her scotch. Emma herself had decided to keep away from the goods this evening.

“What about Killian?”

“Why, he was disowned. After Liam’s death the poor boy was distraught - followed his father’s footsteps straight towards the bottle and wouldn’t turn back no matter what Barrie said. Disowning him was the last ultimatum. And that was about it for the Jones boys,” Granny finished. “And about it for this glass. I’m gonna go see about a refill,” she smiled, a gleam in her eyes. “Good luck with the case, Emma. I know most people here don’t like the idea of foreigners, but they’re all stuck in old ways, too blind to see that this village is dying. We need new blood - I hope your client’s got the right stuff.”

With a pat on Emma’s shoulder, Granny disappeared into the crowd. Emma’s superpower ticked away like a clock rewinding; Granny hadn’t been entirely truthful. And Emma knew exactly where the lie was - Liam’s death. Granny knew damn well that Liam was alive. And she knew that Emma knew it too.

Scouting the crowd, looking to see where the old woman had gone, Emma was disappointed. Granny had vanished. She’d told Emma more than any other villager was willing to though, and she had a feeling Granny didn’t take well to being questioned after she’d already given her answers. Still, if the woman knew anything helpful...

Emma’s spirits picked up when she instead spotted onion rings on the serving table. She could have sworn they weren’t there before - a happy surprise. One she would gladly take advantage of.

People mingled on every side of her, rubbing elbows and clinking their glasses with toasts to Barrie. At the serving table, Emma still noticed when someone came a bit too close though, as she tried to put a modest amount of onion rings on her plate.

“I’d advise you to stay far away from the sauce,” Hook reached over her plate for a patty shell, “ -it might look good, but I’m fairly sure they’ve put some sort of poison it.”

“Hello to you too, Hook.”

He bowed his head at her in greeting. “Milady.”

Really, who was this guy?

Hook glanced at her plate full of onion rings with amusement but said nothing. Both satisfied with their servings, he led her to a less crowded space by one of the windows. Or maybe she led him.

“Did all the files and papers show you a good time then?” Hook asked as Emma put her plate on the windowsill, taking a good bite of an onion ring.

“I think I’ve seen enough drawings of ships to last me a lifetime.” She stuffed another onion ring in her mouth. She deserved a nice treat, she really did.

“Aye, he was hardly subtle about his passions.”

Emma definitely did not like the way the word  _passion_  sounded with his English lilt. It helped that he wasn’t too successful in eating his patty shell without making a mess.

“What about you? Stolen anything else today?”

“I’ve been on my best behaviour, love, I swear. Spent the day gathering some inspiration.”

“Inspiration?”

Hook licked a crumb from his lip. “Aye. Aside from being a human pillow and a dashing pirate, I’m a writer.”

He was all too happy of reminding her of the sleeping-on-a-stranger’s-shoulder-incident.

“Really? Written anything I might have read?”

“As of yet I’m still working on getting published,” he joked at his own expense. “But one day, you’ll be hearing my name in every corner of the world.”

“I look forward to it,” Emma said, challenging his confidence in inevitable success.

“Don’t worry love - I’ll be sure to include a blonde lass with an inclination for sleeping on the shoulders of strangers in my first best-seller.”

He was lucky she was too busy chewing on an onion ring. She swallowed and opened her mouth to get back at him, but-

“Hey, you’re that American woman who thinks you can come and steal our village with a pocket full of money, aren’t ya?” a short and gruff man burst into Emma’s and Hook’s bubble. His eyes burnt with anger, his tone doing nothing to hide it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Emma was anything but apologetic.

“You heard me, sister,” he spat. “But let me tell you this - you Americans aren’t getting a piece of this town. You can take your money and stuff it.  _The Brothers Jones_  belongs to us, not some filthy rich codger.” He had no shame in sticking his angry scowl as close to Emma’s face as possible.

“Oi, mate - that’s no way to talk to a lady,” Hook butted in. Emma turned her glare on him - she was no  _lady_  he needed to save. He caught her message through the glare straight away, but didn’t step back. He kept silent though.

“We’re not  _stealing_  anything,” Emma kept her voice level as she turned back to the angry villager. She couldn’t help a bit of her own anger from seeping through. “Barrie sold the business on his own terms, and I think that decision was his to make and not the entire town’s.”

All around, people were turning their heads towards them. Some looked appalled to hear raised voices at a memorial. Others seemed to share the man’s fury. He turned towards the crowd, glad to have an audience. “Do you guys hear that? She doesn’t even  _care_. Thinks she’s in the right, coming here and taking our livelihood.” He turned back to Emma, jabbing a finger at her. “If that Mr. Gold ever shows his face here, I guarantee you; he won’t be getting any warm welcome.”

“Leroy!” Granny stepped forward from the crowd, scolding the livid villager. “You’ve got no business threatening people you don’t even know.”

“I’ve got plenty of business! But I won’t once this Gold fellow comes and does as he pleases and probably has me thrown out for the fun of it.”

_Leroy_. The name clicked and at once the situation made more sense. Leroy had been one of the few workers listed on the file she found in Barrie’s office. The guy had a point - he couldn’t know what would happen to him once Mr. Gold took over. But Emma had no sympathy for guys who thought they could stuff their finger in her face and yell at her because their life wasn’t going too well.

“Maybe you could learn some anger management and he might consider letting you keep your job.” Probably not the right thing to say, she knew. Leroy’s face went a shade redder, if that was even possible.

“You listen here, sister-”

“Leroy!” Granny scolded again, this time grabbing Leroy’s arm. “This isn’t the time or the place and I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Go home and sleep it off before you dig a hole you can’t get out of.”

Leroy didn’t look like somebody ready to take any advice. He glared at Granny. All around, people glared at him in return, dismayed that he would stir trouble at Barrie’s memorial. That seemed to get through to him.

Leroy glowered at Emma one last time. “This isn’t over.” Then he pushed his way through the crowd. If it had been possible, Emma imagined a trail of steam would have followed him out.

After a few moments, the crowd turned back to their quiet chatter.

“What an unpleasant git,” Hook remarked.

“Don’t mind him - he’s always getting his head hot about something or another,” Granny said, shaking her head. Before Emma could reply, the woman once again disappeared amongst the crowd, leaving Emma and Hook as they were before. The air felt a lot different now though.

Maybe she should reconsider her decision to stay away from the drinks this evening?

“Well, that was enough drama for my night,” Emma said.

“Aye.”

During the spectacle, Emma hadn’t noticed the change in Hook’s stance. The way his eyes darkened when Leroy mentioned Mr. Gold. The way he stiffened and took a small step away from her.

Her appetite for onion rings was gone, but she took another bite to make up for the silence.

A silence broken by her ringtone sounding from her jacket.

Emma looked at Hook apologetically, but he nodded at her to take it. They shared a parting smile, and Emma made her way through the crowd as she answered her phone.

“Hi Mary Margaret!”

“Hi Emma! Bad time?”

“No. It’s actually pretty perfect,” Emma answered.

“Great! ‘Cause I’ve got some pretty good news.”

Emma could certainly use that.

“Found something on Belle?”

“Yep.” Mary Margaret’s smile went straight through the phone. “Vabdilene is actually _Valadilene_ \- a village in France. I’m guessing if the handwriting was bad enough, those letters could get mixed up. Anyways, I’ve found a woman named Belle French in this Valadilene. She’s a librarian, but her father owns the inn in the village. If Liam passed through, he’ll probably have stayed there.”

A librarian certainly fit with the image of Belle reading. And what Emma read as Vabdilene could definitely have been Valadilene instead. Funny that a woman named Belle  _French_  would live in France though.

Mary Margaret continued, “I found a phone number for the library. They’re closed now, but I can text it to you and you can call tomorrow morning and see if she’s the right Belle.”

“She’d better be,” Emma said. She had made it out of the town hall, out in the cool autumn air. Only now did she realize how tired she was. “Thank you so much for all this, Mary Margaret.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just hoping you can get a quick trip to France out of this - Regina’s quite set on this deal being sealed, no matter what.”

“I hardly think I’ll actually need to go to France.”

“I know,” Mary Margaret said. “But Regina doesn’t.”

People could say what they wanted about Mary Margaret, but at heart, Emma knew she was a mischievous woman.

She thought about it - a trip to France, a couple more days away from Walsh... it definitely wouldn’t be unwelcome.

“I’ll find you a nice French wedding gift.”

“You’d better.”

* * *

Mary Margaret ended up being right on more than one account.

Despite her exhaustion, Emma didn’t get much sleep that night. Drawings and files, villagers and possible secrets ran through her head like a whirlwind. She couldn’t wait for the sun to rise and to just get the day started. Call Belle’s library. Figure out if she had a lead or not.

Belle’s answer on the phone made up for everything. The Australian accent had thrown Emma off at first, but she didn’t care. Belle  _knew_ Liam. Or well,  _had_ known him at least. He had passed through eight years ago. A strange guy, Belle said, but not unlikeable. For a month he had stayed at her father’s inn, exploring the countryside. He was easy to talk to, though he tended to ramble a lot and seemed rather forgetful. Indeed, he had forgotten one of his bags at the inn when he left. Belle had no clue where he had gone or where he’d be today, but they still had the bag with a few of his belongings kept in the attic of the inn.

That’s how Mary Margaret ended up being right on one other thing. A quick call to Regina let Emma know she was not to set her feet back on American soil until she had sealed the deal. If it meant going to France or any other place, Emma was to follow through. So without further dallying, that’s what Emma did. Willesby didn’t seem willing to share its secrets - perhaps Belle and Liam’s forgotten belongings could be of more help.

* * *

_Hi mom. As I said, there’s been a delay in the case. I’m not sure when I’ll be home, but it can’t be too long. There’s a bit of a surprise though... I’m in France!_

Emma sent the text to Ingrid once she’d gotten through the last check at Saint Geoirs Airport. She didn’t doubt she’d be receiving a very astounded phone call soon.

She thought about texting Walsh. She  _should_  text him. He really was a nice guy; he didn’t deserve her flying around Europe without notifying him about anything, just because he had taken her by surprise.

Trailing her suitcase behind her, eyes on her phone instead of the crowd, Emma almost tripped over a toddler running by right in front of her. The kid dashed away, gone in the blink of an eye. Emma’s attention was caught by something else entirely though.

Some _one_.

A few paces away from her, a head with good-looking, dark hair popped up amongst the crowd. Hair she admitted was good-looking because she thought she’d never see the guy again in her life.

_Hook?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm guessing Emma's gonna get some answers of her own next chapter... thank you guys for your lovely comments - I love hearing what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's about time Emma gets some answers, huh?
> 
> first though, a shout out to my beta forget-me-not-s, and the three wonderful artists: theblacksiren, fairytalesandtimetravel and optomisticgirl :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

What the hell was he doing here? Was he following her?

From the start something had been off about Hook. She shouldn’t have been so easily swayed when she found him sneaking around Barrie’s office. What the hell had she been thinking? Did good looks really throw her off that much?

No; Emma wouldn’t be fooled by him any longer.

She weaved her way through the crowd, aiming straight for Hook. Was that even his real name? Of course not - who would call their child James Hook?

Hook reached the main doors of the airport and oblivious to Emma, he slipped through. Emma dodged a large family and their suitcases that seemed to fill the entire hall. She wasn’t going to let Hook get away any time soon.

Why the hell had she even let herself trust him? She _knew_ he was lying, and he was too charismatic not to be hiding something. But what interest could he possibly have in her case?

A time for pondering that would come - hopefully with straight answers from Hook’s own mouth - but first she needed to actually catch the guy.

Emma stormed through the glass doors. At once, her eyes picked him out of the lessening crowd. He sauntered about, almost aimlessly. Did he not expect her to notice him?

Emma wouldn’t question it - if the guy wanted to be caught, she’d catch him. And in a matter of seconds, she all but crashed right into him.

“You’re following me.” Emma hissed, trying not to wince as her suitcase rammed into her heel at her sudden halt.

Hook turned around, eyes wide - too wide. “Swan! What a surprise, love!”

The idiot was faking, and not even trying to do it well. She glared at him, letting her anger show without flaring it.

“ _Why are you following me?_ ”

“Why that’s quite the accusations, lass. If anything, you’re the one following me, jumping at me like that and scaring me half to death. I’m just continuing my humble travels, gathering inspiration.”

“Oh, and you just happened to pick the same airport as me.” Emma said, rather than asked. The wind blew a stray lock of hair from her ponytail and into her eyes. She brushed it back, and kept her eyes on Hook. “Listen, I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. And you’ve been lying from the start.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

He tried so hard to look earnest. Emma smiled, a wry curl of the lips. _Of course you are, buddy_. “I’m gonna ask again, and whatever you say, I’d better believe it: why are you following me?”

“I’m _not_ following you.” A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. Was he enjoying this? “I’m merely taking the same route.”

“Oh yeah? _Why?_ ”

“How would you normally explain coincidences, love?”

 _I’d punch them in the face for being lying assholes._ He was having too much fun with this. Did he take anything seriously?

“You know what? If you’re not gonna explain yourself then I don’t care. As long as you get the hell away from me - and _stay_ away from me.”

Like that, Emma turned and left. If only the wheels on her suitcase didn’t spin so awkwardly. Overly dramatic exits had never been her thing anyways.

Normally, Emma would have loved to stay and get the truth out of someone like him. But she had a bus to catch. And what harm could he possibly cause?

That was the worst part - she had no idea. And if she had no idea, he could probably cause _a lot_ of harm. But entertaining him and his ‘humorous’ lies wouldn’t get her anywhere. She’d find out in time. Hopefully, in _good_ time.

“I have a feeling that’s going to be a mite difficult.”

Emma stopped in her tracks.

“Why?” she asked, turning to look at him.

“Because we’ve got the same goal, you and I.” Gone was his cocky façade, the mirth in his eyes. The gravity she found instead - how could she know it wasn’t just another act?

“And what’s that?” Emma asked.

“Liam.”

Emma simply stared at him, the tension growing thicker between them.

“You said you didn’t know much about Liam.”

“And you said yourself that I haven’t been entirely honest.”

At least he could admit to lying. Emma looked at him, not glaring as much as observing. “Your name’s not really James Hook, is it?”

“You’re quite perceptive aren’t you?” Hook - no, _not-_ Hook - raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, James Hook is but an alias.”

“You’re Killian Jones.”

He smiled. As if proud of her for riddling it out - definitely amused with her bluntness. “Aye, I’m Killian Jones - and therefore I have as much of a right as you do to find my brother.”

“You’ve had _nine years_ to go looking for him.”

“And as you’ve no doubt heard, I haven’t been in the best of places those past nine years,” Hoo- _Killian_ threw back at her.

“It still doesn’t make any sense. Why only start now? Needed someone to find the trail for you? What - have you been spying on me? Was it your plan to just follow me until I found him?” The questions jumbled from Emma’s mouth. Knowing who he really was clarified some of the mystery, but it just added a whole bunch of other questions instead.

“No,” Killian said. “I thought a combined effort and two minds with different sources might be helpful.”

That answer caught Emma off guard. “You thought we should work _together_?”

“It does seem the evident choice,” he shrugged, as if it were a no-brainer.

“Then why not just tell me who you were in the first place?” Emma all but growled at him. People were starting to give them odd looks, but none stared for too long or dared interfere. She didn’t care anyways. This guy made as little sense as he did before. Why make up all the lies if he planned to work with her?

Maybe he really did just do it for the fun of it.

“I couldn’t exactly reveal everything without knowing my potential partner first. Besides, _Killian Jones_ was never to set foot in Willesby again, according to my dear uncle.”

“Yeah well, too bad,” Emma said. “I don’t ‘partner up’ with liars or alcoholics.”

It was a low blow, she knew it. Killian only smiled though, as if he knew he deserved it. He didn’t argue with her. Didn’t pretend she wasn’t right.

“I know Liam better than anyone else,” Killian said, just loud enough for Emma to hear. “I know why he disappeared nine years ago and you seem to have a way of finding out where he’s been since. You can’t deny that we’d find him a lot quicker if we worked together.”

Emma didn’t answer right away. She needed time to think this all over. _Time she didn’t have._ He could be useful to her, but at the same time, how could she trust a single word he said? She had a million questions, but she dared not ask them, fearing he could fool her into believing another lie.

“How did you know I was coming here?”

Killian looked at the ground for a second. Emma really wanted to believe that the look of shame wasn’t another act. “I overhead you talking on the phone with your friend Mary Margaret. About Belle French and Valadilene.”

He didn’t apologize for eavesdropping. Didn’t try to excuse himself. At least he knew when to admit his faults, instead of wheedling his way out of it. Still, a clammy shiver ran through Emma, knowing he must have been spying on one of her phone calls with Mary Margaret - or both?

She had no grounds for trusting him. Absolutely none. In fact, everything screamed at her _not_ to trust him. Not to let him tag along. But her gut gave her a weird feeling. She shouldn’t trust him, but she should keep him close _._ He couldn’t do that much harm if she constantly had her eye on him, could he?

Emma gave a curt nod. Then she turned and left towards the bus terminal.

After a few paces, only hearing her own suitcase trailing behind her and other people mingling about, Emma guessed he hadn’t understood her intention. She turned around and just as well, he hadn’t followed her. He looked rather lost. A spark lit up his face when he saw her turn.

“So are you coming or not, Jones?”

The spark stretched to a grin. “I knew you’d warm up to me, Swan.” In a few strides he had caught up with her, even as she had continued walking before he took his first step. “Though you looked good, I must say, all ‘why are you following me’ in a commanding voice. Chills.”

Emma didn’t deign him with an answer. Not even a roll of her eyes.

She was going to regret this, wasn’t she?

* * *

The winds of late autumn were harsh, but sun shone through the windows. In the stuffy bus, Emma could well have been fooled to think it was still summer. Her jacket lay on the seat beside her; as soon as they had entered the bus, she had made it clear that Killian was _not_ going to sit beside her. Especially not when he made another joke about lending her his shoulder to sleep on.

He lounged on the seat across the aisle, leaning against the window and stretching his legs as much as he could in the confined space. He finally gave up on goading her to talk about half an hour into their trip towards Valadilene. If he was asleep now, Emma couldn’t tell. Not that she had been looking at him much, of course not.

Emma’s head hurt. Since she had left New York, sleeping had been a struggle. She blamed jet-lag. Of course, _before_ she left New York, sleeping hadn’t been easy either. At least then, she didn’t have to worry about some irritatingly good-looking Brit, who definitely spelled trouble.

Emma stole a look at said Brit. What the hell was she getting herself into? Her superpower never failed her, yet he had managed to sneak around it. For all she knew, he could still be lying to her.

If only she could strap him to a tree and hold a knife to his throat until he answered her questions, not a lie in sight.

All those questions she wanted answered flooded her mind. Maybe she should make a list - Ingrid always made lists of everything and anything.

As if summoned, Emma’s phone started buzzing. Fishing it out of its pocket, Ingrid’s face lit up the screen. Emma glanced at Killian before she answered. His eyes were still shut. _Asshole_.

“You’re in France?!” the greeting sounded as soon as Emma answered.

“Yeah, mom... I’m in France.”

* * *

If Ingrid had had it her way, the phone call would have lasted for an hour or more. Once Emma had heard the name Walsh four times, she was ready to hang up though.

Yes, the case was complicated. No, she didn’t know how long she was going to be gone. Yes, she was okay. No, she didn’t have any interesting stories (at least none she wanted to share). And what was going on between her and Walsh, Emma had no wish to tell.

With a huff, she finally ended the call and tossed her phone on top of her jacket.

“Talkative mum?”

Emma _knew_ he hadn’t been sleeping. On the other side of the bus, Killian sat, looking as comfortable as ever, a smile on his lips.

“You could say that,” Emma muttered. “Not that it’s any of your business.” Seriously, how many of her phone calls was he going to eavesdrop on?

“I see the trait didn’t pass on to her daughter,” Killian said.

“I’m adopted.” The words just slipped out. Emma wasn’t usually shy about her childhood, but she didn’t go telling everyone she met about it. Especially not people she didn’t even trust.

But she’d done it, and that was that. It wasn’t like he could use that little piece of information for much. As long as he didn’t start pitying her, she didn’t care what he thought.

Killian just nodded, taking in her words. There was no pity in his eyes, only... understanding?

Granny’s words came to mind - Liam and Killian were still children when their parents had died. What happened to them after Brennan’s death, Emma didn’t know. Barrie hadn’t taken them in - except for a few visits during their childhood, all of the villagers Emma had spoken with claimed they’d rarely ever seen the Jones boys. Maybe they had some other family. Or maybe they had ended up in some system, just like Emma.

Well, at least they knew who their family was.

Neither had a chance to say much more when the bus finally pulled to a stop. Emma looked out the window to the main street of Valadilene. The village lay secluded in an open valley, following a small stream by the foot of a mountain. Red leaves blew across the street, and smoke rose from several chimneys.

“Charming, aye?” Killian said.

Emma nodded. Mary Margaret would have _loved_ this town.

Emma’s enthusiasm dried out once the first gust of wind hit. She couldn’t get to Moe’s Inn quickly enough. Once she’d retrieved her suitcase from the luggage compartment, she was following Google Maps on her phone towards the inn. Killian trailed behind her. He only had his satchel with him, slung over his shoulder.

When Emma eyed him one too many times, he spoke up. “Don’t worry, love, I’m not ‘ _following you’_. I assume we’re both staying at Moe’s, since it’s the only place with several accommodating beds.”

Emma ignored him. She kept her eyes on her phone and the street in front of her.

“Or maybe you’re headed to a different inn,” Killian said. Emma looked up at him. “Moe’s is over there, love,” he pointed to the right. Just as well, a nice sign painted with flowers and _Auberge de Moe_ ( _Moe’s Inn_ read underneath), hung over a three-story, pastel blue building. Emma looked at her phone again. It told her to go left.

She shrugged it off, and made her way towards the inn, leaving Killian and his smug grin to follow.

The reception was colourful to say the least. Flowers stood on almost every surface and hung in paintings on the wall. Looking closer, Emma noticed that even the tapestry was adorned with small daisies.

A woman with dark brown hair, put up in a messy bun, stood by the desk, reading. As soon as Emma and Killian entered, her eyes shot up towards them. Emma tilted her head a little. She could be Belle...

“Hi! You must be Emma Swan, right?” The woman asked, rounding the desk to shake hands with Emma.

“Yep. And you must be Belle French.” The accent was certainly the same as the one on the phone.

Belle nodded with a warm smile. “You’ve just made it in time for a bite of late lunch - I’m guessing you must be hungry after your trip.” Belle turned her smile towards Killian. “I didn’t know you were going to be two.”

“We weren’t,” Emma said before Killian could open his mouth.

“I do hope I don’t cause any inconvenience, love,” Killian said, his tone much nicer than Emma’s. He even gave Belle a little bow. Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if he stooped to kiss her hand.

Belle’s eyes widened. “You must be Liam’s brother Killian! You’ve got the same eyes,” she explained, “And the same manners of a proper gentleman.” Emma held back a snort at that. “And no, it’s no trouble at all! There’s a spare room next to Emma’s actually.”

_Great._

“Why, that sounds perfect,” Killian grinned.

 _Yeah. Perfect_.

“I’ll just go and get you guys checked in then. Two nights for you too, Killian?” Belle asked as she bound her way back to the desk. Emma noticed the heels she wore - and man, she thought _her_ stilettos were tall.

While everything got sorted out, Moe came in to greet them as well. Emma and Killian got a few minutes afterwards to find their rooms and unload their baggage before lunch. Emma could have done with an hour or two to bury herself in the blankets; she had rarely seen a bed look _that_ fluffy.

The table, decked in food from fruits, to crepes, to grilled cheese, proved to be worth it when Emma found the dining room. (Especially the grilled cheese.)

Killian wasn’t there yet, but she had heard him bustling about in his room. Of course the walls would be thin as paper.

Belle was there, and quickly offered Emma a seat. She promised Emma to answer every question she’d like answered, and after lunch they could go to the attic and see about finding Liam’s bag.

Killian came moments later and Emma dug her teeth in a grilled cheese.

“So lass, how did someone from Australia end up living a small-town-life in France?” Killian asked. Not the first question Emma wanted answered, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t curious too.

Belle smiled. “A family adventure turned into a bit more than that, you could say. We moved here when I was fifteen and I’ve just never been able to leave - at least not permanently.”

Killian continued his effortlessly pleasant small-talk and Belle told them about the village and her job at the library. Emma let them chat, choosing to focus on her plate. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she took that first bite. At least Killian seemed to be stuffing himself just as much, in between all the small-talk.

“I remember Liam saying you’re a boat designer - or engineer?” Belle questioned Killian. Emma set her glass back on the table. She looked at Killian and filed away this new fact. He had told her he was a writer, but it seemed he had a bit more in common with his family and their love of boats. Could that be why he was so intent on finding Liam, only now? So that the family business wouldn’t get sold. Maybe he wanted a foot in the business himself now that Barrie had died. Maybe...

Emma all but shook her head at herself. She had to stop with the endless theories and focus on what was actually going on.

“Aye, engineer. Though I’m more of a writer nowadays.”

Belle’s eye lit up. “Really? What do you write about?”

Killian scratched a spot behind his ear. “Various tales of sea-faring adventures and explorations.”

“You and Liam really have a lot in common, don’t you? He was always borrowing books about the sea - fiction and non-fiction. I think he borrowed nearly every book on the subject actually! I doubt he read them all though. He usually seemed a bit... distracted,” Belle said with a polite delicacy. Killian didn’t seem to mind though.

“Aye, his mind wasn’t in the best of states either, last I saw him. He...” Killian darted a look at Emma before he continued. Emma sensed his words were for her benefit as much as Belle’s. An attempt at proving his honesty? She set all her focus on poking out the lies in whatever he was going to say.

“He was in an accident about nine years ago - I don’t know if he ever told you of that.” Killian looked at Belle. She shook her head, worry in her eyes, despite the many years that had passed. “He and his friends went on a long sailing trip while I was still studying. They encountered a storm and well, Liam was the sole survivor. When he came back home, rescued as the only one, he was a shadow of himself. Couldn’t think straight anymore. And a few days later, he was gone.”

No one said anything for a few seconds. Killian had effectively dampened the mood in a matter of a few words. Of course, Emma knew _something_ terrible had happened. Why else would Liam have disappeared, leaving everyone to think he was dead? Still, being the lone survivor, all of his friends dead... Emma shuttered to think about it.

Almost worse, she found herself believing every word Killian said.

“That’s awful,” Belle spoke after a few seconds. She looked rather shocked. “And you’ve never seen him since?”

“Afraid not,” Killian said. “I only recently found out he passed through here.”

 _And by recently, you mean_ yesterday _. When you eavesdropped on a private phone conversation._

Killian could tell as many sad tales as he wanted; Emma wouldn’t stop being pissed at him any time soon.

(A bit of the anger _had_ started to lessen though.)

(Not that she’d admit it.)

“I really had no idea,” Belle shook her head. “I mean, he always seemed distracted, but he was always content, if not happy. He liked being out in the open - like I told you, Emma, on the phone, he spent most of his time here exploring the countryside. I really wish I knew more of where he went when he left...”

“He never told you why he chose to stay in Valadilene in particular either?” Emma asked.

Belle thought of it for a moment, then shook her head again. “He was just travelling through Europe, he said. Valadilene was just another stop. I think he came from Paris - and he’d also been in Germany, around Munich.”

Emma filed away every piece of information.

“Did he say anything particular about either city?” Killian asked.

“No, well, he just mentioned having been there. ‘It was rainy in Paris’, ‘Munich was beautiful’, things like that.”

Killian nodded. Emma wondered if the small scraps of information somehow meant a lot more to him.

“What about when he left Valadilene? Didn’t he give _any_ clue about where he wanted to go next?” Emma knew she was digging a hole that lead nowhere, but she just couldn’t believe that Liam didn’t say _anything_ to Belle. She must have meant something to him - why else would she be the only person he had drawn? And why send that drawing to his uncle?

“His departure was kind of odd. He left in the early night, knocked on my door just to say goodbye. I did ask him where he was going, but he didn’t seem to know himself. And then, of course, he forgot the bag that I told you about.” Belle checked if both Emma and Killian were done eating. “If you’re ready, we could go to the attic and find it now?”

“Sounds lovely,” Killian smiled, and gave his thanks for the ‘wonderful meal’. Emma added her own ‘sure’ and a thank you as well.

Fortunately, the attic wasn’t the dark, damp and dusty place that Emma had expected. It was messy, but they found the old bag within ten minutes. The satchel was much like Killian’s. The leather had cracked where it had lain folded for eight years.

Emma didn’t know what to hope for. There was a bit of clothes in the satchel as expected and a bag full of charcoal too; a bulky flashlight, several candy wrappings and that was it.

Killian searched the bag one more time while Emma sat hunched a few feet away. She tried not to feel too disappointed. Of course the bag would be a dead end. Still... what was she going to do now?

* * *

Killian checked each and every pocket. There _had_ to be something more. He picked through the clothes, hoping something lay hidden in the folds.

Nothing.

He fumbled through the bag once more. He could tell Emma had given up, even if she sat behind him. She probably wondered why he didn’t just give up too. There was nothing there, it was bloody obvious.

Killian ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said, standing near the top of the ladder.

“’Tis not your fault, love.”

“I don’t know what we were hoping to find anyways,” Emma said.

Killian grabbed the clothes and the bag of charcoal and put them back in the satchel. He grabbed the torch and tried clicking it. No light came. The torch rattled when he moved it, as if the battery was too small inside the rather large handle.

Killian scrunched his brow and decided not to put the torch back in the bag just yet. Instead he screwed off the tip of the handle.

No battery slid out of the opening. Instead a small, rustic music box fell into Killian’s open palm.

Emma moved closer. She startled him when she spoke - he hadn’t noticed just how close she was to him. “I found a music box just like that in Barrie’s office.”

Killian whipped his head towards her. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “It was in this secret space in the cabinet.”

So she’d found the hidden space. Of course. Killian was glad he’d found Liam’s letters and taken them before she could. But maybe she had found something else in the pile of rubbish. Was that how she found out about Belle?

“Why don’t you play it?” Belle asked. She, too, had come closer. Killian did as she suggested, and winded the small music box.

He knew the melody it played from heart. He hadn’t heard it for so long though... Killian closed his eyes for a mere moment, memories washing over him.

“It’s the same song!” Emma said.

“It’s a lullaby our mother used to sing,” Killian spoke, his voice soft. “I reckon the music box you found in Barrie’s office was mine - I haven’t been able to find it in years.”

The tune restarted, then died out after a few notes.

“Why would Liam hide it in a torch?” Belle asked the question they all wondered.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

* * *

Killian stared at the old sheet of paper in his hand. He knew the words in and out - his mother’s lullaby. A song of waves and starlight, of dark shores carrying you to safety. Why had Liam written the lyrics and sent them in a letter to Barrie?

The paper in Killian’s hand was one of the three letters he had found from Liam in Barrie’s office. There was no date, but the post-stamp marked it from Norway. At the top it read, _it’s done_. No ‘dear uncle’ or any explanation. Just _it’s done_. And then the lullaby.

Killian didn’t understand it. He wasn’t sure if there was even anything to understand. Liam hadn’t been himself. Perhaps the lullaby was a way of grounding him.

Night had fallen, and Killian sat on the bed in his room. He opened another envelope. He had studied these letters hundreds of times in the two days he’d had them, but one more time couldn’t hurt.

This one was from Germany. The handwriting was awful, and Killian could barely decipher it. Not only difficult, the message was painful to read. Liam wrote he felt guilty. That he shouldn’t have left Killian. But it had to be done, he knew that. Neverland had to be hidden. _Tell Killian,_ was one of the last sentences. _Killian has to know_.

The last letter was from Spain. In it, Liam was angry at their uncle for having disowned Killian. _That was never meant to happen_. The rest was gibberish. Stuff about Neverland, how beautiful it was, even mentions of Neverland being ‘family’.

Killian looked at each letter again. He could somewhat date them from their context. But he didn’t know what to do with them. How could they help him find Liam? They, along with the two letters Liam had sent Killian years ago, were the only clues he had.

And they were as good as useless.

“...Walsh - let me talk for a second, okay?” Killian whisked his head to the side. Emma’s voice, obviously tense, sounded through their shared wall. He had heard muffled sounds from her room before, but she must be on the phone now. Again.

And he could hear every word she said.

Again.

Killian stuffed the letters back in his satchel and grabbed his coat. Emma’s conversation on the phone didn’t sound too pretty. He didn’t trust her, just as she didn’t trust him, but he respected her.

He left his room and the inn all together, going for a stroll through the streets of Valadilene.

* * *

“Walsh - let me talk for a second, okay?”

She shouldn’t have called him. She should have shoved away her guilt and waited until she got home. But no, Emma had decided to finally call Walsh, and he was determined to get answers. Determined to have a conversation that _really_ shouldn’t be had on the phone.

“Fine, Emma. Talk.”

 _Finally_.

“I’m sorry I just left, okay? I don’t know how to say it so it’ll help, but I really am sorry. I-”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Walsh interrupted. “Why couldn’t you at least say goodbye?”

“I don’t know, Walsh!” Emma all but shouted. “I just couldn’t deal with it, okay? You know what you got into when we started dating, and I’m just not good at all... this.”

“I would’ve understood, Emma; if you had just told me instead of running off. I knew that proposing was a risk, but don’t you understand? I love you, Emma - I want us to be able to _talk_ about things - _these_ things - with each other.”

“We’ve only been together for eight months, Walsh. I’ve had leftovers in my fridge for longer than that! You need to understand that I just can’t do this.”

“You can’t do what, Emma?”

“I can’t make that kind of commitment,” Emma paced the room. “I like being with you, but I’m not ready to settle down like that.”

“I know Emma, I know. Forget I proposed. Forget all of that. Just come home, will you?”

“Walsh, I _told_ you this might take a while, okay? I can’t go home until I’ve finished the case and -”

“Forget the case, Emma!” Walsh interrupted. Again. “Aren’t _we_ more important than some job?”

“It’s _my_ job, Walsh. I can’t just skimp out of it. And actually, I think it’s for the best that I’m here for a little while longer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Emma sat on the windowsill, leaning against the cold glass. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Maybe we just need some space. Both of us. And then we’ll see how we feel when I get home.”

She was already pretty sure she knew how she’d feel though.

Emma hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we all know Walsh can't hold a candle to Killian :)) I hope you guys liked the chapter - I'm so excited for the next one!!


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s not far now,” Belle said. “Just around that bend and we’ll be able to see the cave.”

The short brunette walked in the front, Emma and Killian following close behind. The weather had turned out to be agreeable that morning, and Belle thought Emma and Killian might want to ‘see the sights’. At least the places Liam had been most fond of.

Emma’s boots, however, weren’t the best for mountain climbing. She stumbled a few times, but never enough to actually fall. If _that_ happened, she’d pray the earth would just open up and swallow her whole - before Killian could make some cheeky remark at least.

“So, did you usually go with Liam on these hikes?” Emma asked.

“A couple of times in the beginning, just to show him around. But no, he usually went alone. He liked to draw the landscape.”

Killian perked up a bit at that. Emma eyed him from the side. She hadn’t told him about the album with Liam’s drawings; the album that had led her to Belle. For now, she didn’t want to tell Killian anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Not until he made a believable sign of good faith.

A few paces more, around the bend, and Belle’s words proved truthful. The opening to the cave was just a few yards away - and a few more steps upwards.

Belle had mentioned the cave during breakfast, saying it had always intrigued Liam. He’d spent quite a while exploring it, despite its small size. Immediately, Killian had asked Belle to show them the cave. Emma didn’t understand the importance. But it was better than sitting around, doing nothing, so Emma shrugged and joined in on the hike.

If only her boots weren’t so incredibly ridiculous for mountain hiking. Her feet were going to need a nice warm bath when they got back to the inn.

“Wow,” Killian breathed when he reached the top. Emma, just behind him, turned to look at the valley too.

It really was beautiful.

Valadilene lay at the foot of the mountain, and even if they hadn’t climbed it to the very top, the village looked so small. Sunlight bathed the valley and gleamed on the rocky chain of mountains on the other side.

 _Definitely a change from New York_ , Emma thought.

Belle handed them a flashlight each. The cave turned dark only a few paces in, and Emma was glad to have her own light.

Like Belle said, the cave wasn’t very big. The small grotto was split into sections by stalactites and stalagmites alike, resembling shadowy teeth closing in above and below.

Neither of the three spoke. They let their footsteps break the silence, echoing against the rocks. The cave wasn’t all grey and dark as Emma had expected. With their flashlights, some of the rocks gained a sandier colour. In some spots, the light even reflected in tiny specks, like a net of stars.

Killian stood near the back of the cave, shining his flashlight at the tiny reflective specks. Emma stopped and stood a few feet away from him. She glanced up at the ‘stars’.

“You think your brother might’ve left some star coordinates and neatly given us a way to find him?”

Killian chuckled, a hearty sound that echoed against the wall. “If he’s left any coordinates, it would likely lead to some other place where he’d have left other coordinates, that in turn would lead to a third Liam-less place. Idiot that he is.”

Emma turned her head to look at him, keeping her flashlight pointed at the wall.

“Then what did you hope to find in this cave?”

Killian shrugged. She wasn’t prepared for the sight of light reflecting in his eyes, and his face half-cloaked in shadows as he turned his head to meet her eyes.

“Anything.”

Emma was short of an answer. She turned back to looking at the ‘stars’. Belle joined them a few seconds later, gazing up at the cave wall.

“I’ve read that the snowmelt that runs through the mountain smooths certain spots on the rocks and sometimes it results in specks like that,” she explained. “Leaves them all shiny like crystals. When I first saw them, I was half-convinced it was fairy-dust,” Belle said with a smile.

“Who says it isn’t?”

Both women turned to look at Killian. He grinned at them. Looking up at the ‘stars’ one last time, he left to explore more of the cave.

* * *

Emma hated being restless. Hated not having something to do, a lead to follow or a clue to investigate. The cave had been beautiful, as were the rest of the sights Belle had shown them. Lunch had been great, dinner too, and even visiting the library had been interesting.

But it had led them nowhere.

Emma lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite the late hour, she was still fully clothed and hadn’t even taken off her shoes. She’d rather lie on top of the covers, instead of crawling under them, trying to sleep and inevitably failing.

If only she had something to do.

In the room on the other side of the wall behind her bed, Emma could hear Killian walking around. The sounds were muffled, and she probably wouldn’t have heard them if she hadn’t been trying to... not that she _had_ been trying to, of course. She was simply bored.

The tell-tale creaking of a door opening and closing sounded through the wall. Emma shot up, sitting on the edge of the bed. Why was Killian leaving his room?

She heard his footsteps outside in the hall. He walked towards her door... and past it.

The footsteps continued to the end of the hall by the stairs. Then he was out of earshot.

_What the hell?_

Fortunately, Emma’s room not only had a view of the mountains, but the street outside too. She dashed over to the window to see if Killian left the inn altogether.

For a minute, all was still on the street. Then a dark figure came into view, walking away from the inn towards the end of the road. _Jones_.

Emma could see his satchel slung over his shoulder. Was that his game then? To up and leave in the middle of the night? Had she proven useless to him, so he might as well continue on his own?

She should be glad to be rid of him. But something wasn’t right about this. It was suspicious, and that was the _only_ reason Emma felt so unsettled.

She stood by the window, watching him go for a few seconds more. Then her energy kicked in. After being restless all evening, it felt good to move with a purpose. Boots already on, she only needed to grab her jacket, and Emma was out of the door quick as a flash.

Outside, Killian could no longer be seen. She stuck to the shadows of the buildings, taking long and quick strides in the direction he had disappeared in. Soon enough, she spotted him up ahead. He had walked past the bus-stop - maybe he had another way to get out of the village?

Emma picked up her pace, without getting too close. She didn’t want him looking back and noticing her.

Killian turned a corner. Emma frowned. She knew where that path led. Belle had led them that way that very morning. The path towards the mountain.

Was Killian going to the cave again? _In the middle of the night?_

Emma turned the same corner not long after. She could still see Killian a good distance away. The further they went down the path, away from the lights in the town, the harder it got to see him though.

Until he turned on a flashlight.

Emma followed the speck of light as it trekked up the mountain. Luckily, she didn’t have to keep a fast pace to follow him. The path they were now on only led to one place.

Instead, Emma could focus on not losing her footing.

The further she came, the rockier the path grew, with branches to trip on and small pebbles to slip on. Using her own flashlight was out of the question. First of all, she didn’t have one - only her phone. Second of all, she didn’t want Killian noticing her until she figured out what the hell he was up to.

Up ahead, Killian made a few turns. He ended up behind a small wall of rocks, and his light disappeared behind it.

Adrenaline still pumped through Emma. The stupidity of her situation was starting to dawn on her though. Climbing the mountain in daylight had been hard enough because of her inadequate boots. Climbing it when only the crescent moon lit her way (when clouds weren’t obscuring it), well... she was screwed.

Emma did her best. She stumbled a few times, but never fell. Slowly but surely, she made her way up the mountain towards the cave. It was actually going pretty-

Emma slipped. The rock had been slick and her other foot had met rolling pebbles and... she lost her balance. She reached out to brace her fall, scraping her hand on a sharp rock. She fell to her knees and proceeded to hug the ground for a second.

The last few rolling pebbles slowed and stopped. Emma breathed heavily, listening for any other disturbances of the silence.

 _Please tell me he didn’t hear that_.

Eerie silence continued. No flashlight turned her way. No stupid remark reached her ears.

Emma stayed on the cold ground for a moment more. Her jeans had probably ripped, her hand hurt and she was sure she’d find bruises on her legs tomorrow.

_Fucking fantastic._

When she was certain Killian hadn’t heard her, Emma rose. She kept her groans as low as she could, but couldn’t stop them from slipping out.

_I’m never doing anything like this again._

Emma started walking once more, this time even more careful. Thoughts of murdering Jones - or at least giving him a good earful - kept her going. Every step she took was another curse of his name.

 _Finally_ , she made it to the cave. The light from Killian’s flashlight dimly flickered and bounced off the walls. Emma stood by the entrance, wary of going in. Her boots would click on the ground, and no matter how softly she tried to walk, the sound would echo. And Killian would know she had followed him.

That left her standing outside, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. Should she hide and see what happened when he came out? Should she ambush him in some manner or another?

Killian shuffled around inside the cave. Emma heard something clanging - like a pickaxe against rock.

What the hell was he doing?

* * *

Killian would have been grateful for a pickaxe. Instead, he tried using a dagger, hacking it into the creases like a chisel.

He had noticed the fine line in the cave wall earlier, when Belle had shown them the grotto. The line rounded, creating a rough circle in the stone. Running his finger over the indent, Killian had guessed it wasn’t just a surface scratch. It cut much deeper.

Killian jerked the dagger out of the crease, only to nudge it in again, a few centimetres upwards. He scratched at the indent once more, hacking away the sand that had occupied it for too many years.

The sextant _had_ to be in there. Or the spyglass. But Killian was betting on the sextant, what with all the ‘stars’ in the cave.

A few nudges more, and the once fine line was a proper wedge in the stone wall. Killian grinned, triumphant. Like a lid, the round surface popped out of the wall with a bit more prying. And in its place, it left a hole. A nice and spacious hole, with a box waiting for him inside.

_Liam, you bloody ingenious git._

As boys, he and Liam had spent a lot of their time exploring the nearby coast. By the cliffs, they’d found their own little cave to shelter them when unexpected rain showers poured down. At first, Killian had hated the dark. But he had his brother, and if Liam was there, nothing could ever go wrong. The cave wasn’t so bad after he’d realized that.

But then their father died and they had to move away. Their mother’s aunt didn’t live too far from the sea, but they never again found a cave like the one they had at home.

When Belle had mentioned a cave that morning at breakfast, Killian _had_ to see it. When he had found the indent in the cave well, he _had_ to check it out. He couldn’t very well do that with Emma and Belle there though.

And so, that’s how Killian found himself grinning at the wooden box, well after midnight. The dark hike to the cave hadn’t been the best experience - especially not when he thought he heard something creeping behind him. Dark caves still put him on edge, but Killian wasn’t a little boy anymore. And even without Liam, he was doing it _for_ Liam.

Killian took the wooden box out of its hole in the cave wall. His torch lay on the ground, angled so the light shone just right. He placed the box by the torch, crouching in front of it. The latch was unlocked. On the lid, _Liam Jones_ had been scratched into a corner of the surface. Killian laid his hand over the letters for a few seconds.

Then he opened the lid.

A pegasus gleamed on the sextant’s surface. Killian lifted the sextant in one hand, and the torch in his other. He inspected the constellations that surrounded the pegasus - markings unlike any he had ever seen.

_One step closer, brother. I’ll find you soon._

Killian swaddled the sextant in a cloth, and carefully placed it in his satchel. As for the box, he closed it and put it back in its natural cupboard, putting the rock-lid back in place. Grabbing the torch from the ground again, Killian turned to-

Something moved outside. The sound of a rock scuttling echoed through the cave.

Then nothing.

_It’s nothing but your mind playing games, Killian._

Still, he kept his steps as soft as possible as he moved towards the cave-opening. Chances were it was just an animal. Or nothing at all. But every day, things were getting riskier, and someone might have followed him to the cave...

His back against the cave wall, Killian could _just_ peek outside.

And his eyes caught a blonde woman in a red leather jacket, leaning against the outer mountainside.

“Swan?”

She’d been ready to peek inside the cave just as he had peeked outside.

“What-” Killian began before she could. He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “Were you following me?”

“You snuck off in the middle of the night to visit a cave - of course I’ve been following you!” Anger swirled in her eyes, along with the ever-present distrust.

“Really? I thought you had so much against people following each other.”

“I- not the fucking point, Jones. What the hell are you up to?”

“A midnight stroll?” He was playing with fire and he knew it.

Didn’t stop him from enjoying it.

Swan glared at him. She crossed her arms and his eyes caught a trickling line of red.

“Swan, what happened to your hand?

Her glare darkened. “Nothing, my hand’s fine - quit messing around and answer my freaking question.”

She sure was in a good mood. Not that he blamed her. In truth, he was surprised she hadn’t yet thrown him off the mountainside.

He wasn’t too focused on her wrath at the moment though - the blood on her hand caused more concern.

“Swan, you’ve cut your hand.”

She looked at the cut in question, but didn’t say anything. She barely even seemed to mind. Her eyes soon met his again, mouth opening - most likely to snap at him again.

Killian held his hand up. “No need to yell at me again, love.” He opened his satchel and pulled out a flask. “Let me just clean that wound first, and I’ll tell you what led me on my midnight stroll.”

Killian held his hand out for hers. She kept her arms crossed.

A few more prompting looks and she gave up, laying her hand in his.

Killian couldn’t help but feel victorious.

“Ah, what the hell is that?” Swan flinched as Killian poured his rum on the cut. She didn’t try to pull her hand away though.

“Rum,” Killian answered. “And probably a better use of it than what I normally do, if you ask my dear uncle.”

Killian took the thin black scarf draped around his neck and wrapped it around her hand.

“So, love, did you notice my wandering off by mere happenstance or were you keeping an eye on me?”

She didn’t answer. At least not with words.

“Tough lass, aren’t you,” he grinned.

She still said nothing, but he could practically hear her saying ‘cut the crap, Jones’ from the look she gave him.

He thought of pulling the knot tight with his teeth, just to see her reaction. Then he thought better of it. No need to antagonize her any further.

The wound dressed, Killian knew it was time to spill. He didn’t trust Swan - not when he knew who she worked for and especially not after she’d followed him to the cave. But she didn’t trust him either, and of course she would want to know what he was doing.

Making up another lie would be too risky. She’d see right through it. But telling her the truth could be an even bigger risk…

Killian prepared himself. He’d run the greater risk. Maybe, just _maybe_ he was wrong about her.

(He wouldn’t think too hard on how much he hoped he was wrong.)

* * *

 

Emma didn’t want to think about what her hand felt like in his. What the sight of him dressing her wound did to her...

The asshole was trying to throw her off. The ‘wound’ she’d gotten when she fell on her way up was hardly a wound at all. A minor cut. Not something that needed mending, and certainly not from Killian. He was stalling for more time to make up some stupid lie.

And she’d let him.

The second Killian let go of her hand, she crossed her arms again. If he didn’t start spilling...

“Remember the compass you allowed me to steal?”

She hadn’t expected that. Emma looked at him questioningly, drawing out a ‘yes’.

“Well, I wasn’t entirely honest about that either.”

“Shocking,” Emma deadpanned.

Killian took a second to find the right words. “You see, the compass is actually a family relic of sorts. Part of the Jones’ history. And it was with Liam when he sailed into that storm nine years ago.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow, signalling him to go on. Killian opened his satchel, and carefully lifted a clothed item from it.

“On his journey, he also brought this...” Killian unwrapped the item. “A sextant.”

Emma wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “And this matters because...?”

“Because, Swan, when Liam disappeared, he left the compass with our dear uncle, but the sextant, he brought with him. And hid it _somewhere in Europe_ during his delirious travels.”

Emma looked at the pegasus on the sextant. “What, here in Valadilene? In the cave?”

“Aye.”

“Why?”

Killian chuckled at that. He wrapped the sextant up in its cloth again and slid it back into his satchel. “I’m not really sure. I mean, the only given reason I know of, I find difficulty with believing myself.”

“Try me.” So far, Killian hadn’t ticked her superpower. And she was fairly certain she could trust that.

“Do you remember I said that when Liam came back from the accident, he was a shadow of himself? Talking gibberish?”

Emma nodded.

“Well, that gibberish was about Neverland.”

“Neverland,” Emma repeated with great scepticism.

“Aye. Neverland. My family has a bit of a fondness for that tale.”

“You’re the one to talk, _Hook._ ”

Killian grinned, giving a nice show of his teeth. “Just felt like following in the family footsteps, love.

“Anyways,” Killian continued, “my family has their own abridged version of Neverland - without that miscreant Pan and his pesky Lost Boys. Instead, it’s this magical place, only accessible if one possesses a certain compass and sextant.”

Emma narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

“I told you, Swan, it’s an unbelievable tale. Liam brought the two objects with him on the journey with his friends as a joke. After the accident though, his mind kept swirling around Neverland. For some reason the compass stayed with my uncle, but Liam seemed quite adamant about hiding the sextant.”

Emma tried to let it sink in, but it didn’t make any sense. Killian wasn’t lying, but just because he seemed to believe what he said, it didn’t make it true.

“Are you expecting me to believe that this sextant along with that compass will lead you to _Neverland_?”

Killian chuckled. “On the contrary, Swan, I’d be worried if you _did_ believe it. ‘Tis but a fanciful bedtime story passed down through the generations of the Jones’.”

 _If it’s just a bedtime story, then why did Liam disappear, leaving everyone to think he was dead, so he could hide a sextant?_ Emma wondered, but she found another question more pressing.

“Wait a second - how did you even know where to find the sextant?”

“I didn’t,” Killian answered. “I was fortunate enough to meet you and you led me to Valadilene; where our lovely Belle led us to this cave, wherein I happened to notice a very convenient hiding spot.”

“So the first place you look, you find it?” Emma asked. “Isn’t that a bit too easy? I mean, Liam’s been travelling throughout most of Europe - he could have hidden it _anywhere_. But you just spend a day in France and then you happen to find it.”

“I hardly think anything about this is easy, love. Do you think I only started looking for Liam the day Barrie died?” There was an edge in Killian’s tone, but it wasn’t angry. More... frustrated. “My brother disappeared nine years ago with a head full of bedtime stories, and here I am, grasping at clues that may or may not lead me to him. I was fortunate to find the sextant, yes, but...”

 _It’s not Liam_ , Emma could hear him finish where he trailed off.

Why he even cared about the sextant, she didn’t know. But she doubted she could ever understand. It was probably a family thing and despite all Ingrid had given her since she was sixteen, family was still a hard concept to grasp.

A cold wind blew through Emma’s jacket. The anger gone, Emma realized how cold she was. And how tired she felt.

Killian must have noticed the way her strength started to ebb from her shoulders. “Perhaps we should talk more about this in daylight, love. And not near the top of a mountain with cold winds chilling our bones.”

Emma nodded. Things were still so unclear, but at least, for once, she actually trusted the things Killian said. And she trusted that he’d be there come daylight, willing to answer more questions.

Emma turned and began the descent first. Killian’s flashlight lit the way for her.

After a few steps, Emma stopped and turned to look at him. She wasn’t sure why she did it. Maybe sleep-deprivation was really starting to get to her. But she did it nonetheless, turned around and spoke.

“I’m sorry about Liam, Killian.”

The look in his eyes - grateful in some way - kept flickering through her head when she finally got a chance to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's time for some explanations about Neverland!
> 
> As always, a huge shout-out to the amazing people I've worked with during the CSBB: [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!

Emma trudged down the hall towards the stairs. Her hair was damp from the shower and her stomach was all but growling at her. She felt kind of pathetic. Already 10 AM, and she’d barely woken up yet - it could have been four in the morning for all she knew.

Emma didn’t get very far down the stairs. A certain Killian blocked her way.

They both stopped in their tracks and the uneasiness Emma had felt since she woke flared as she took him in. Last night had been... well, Emma was half-convinced it was all a dream.

Killian scratched his neck. “Morning, love. I, uh, I’ve already eaten.”

Emma lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, I kinda overslept.” She shrugged and blamed jet lag.

Killian shuffled a bit. He was still blocking the way - the stairs weren’t very wide here. “I just need to retrieve something from my room, but then I’ll join you. If you’d like of course,” he added.

Emma shrugged again. “Sure.”

Killian finally made space, leaving the stairs and going to his room as Emma went to the dining room. The uneasiness was tenfold now. Yesterday morning, she thought of Killian as nothing but trouble. An untrustworthy liar, who may or may not be helpful.

He was still trouble, that much was certain. But... so much of the anger towards him had disappeared. Instead, some sort of understanding was forming.

And Emma didn’t like that one bit.

The dining room was neither empty nor full. A couple sat in the corner, and two different families occupied the larger tables. Emma took a seat at the table farthest from all three, grabbing two pieces of toast, a croissant and a much-needed cup of coffee.

Belle wouldn’t join them today. She was back to working her normal schedule at the library. The plan had never been for Emma and Killian to stay in Valadilene for long after all. They’d only booked two nights and now... well, where the hell were they going to go now?

As Emma stressed over the impossibility of the situation, nibbling at her croissant, Killian made his way over to her table. She avoided meeting his eyes. Avoided looking at him at all, except a first glance.

Killian hesitated before sitting down. Only for a second, but Emma noticed it. She sipped her coffee.

“So,” Killian began. “How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” She had swapped his scarf with a proper band-aid before she’d gone to bed last night. She should probably return that scarf to him...

Killian seemed to be in deep thought, internally debating something. Emma couldn’t deny that she was doing the same thing - had been doing it since she woke up. She took it out on her croissant, peeling off the delicate flakes; until she realized she was wasting a pretty good croissant, and decided to change tactics.

“Do you think Liam is in that Neverland-place?”

Her question took Killian by surprise - or perhaps the fact that she’d opened her mouth and said something was a surprise in itself.

“I thought you didn’t believe in Neverland.”

“Of course I don’t believe in _Neverland_. This Neverland- _place_ is obviously just a nickname or code for some other place. And I guess that if the ‘bedtime stories’ as you call them have been in your family for generations, it would make sense that they once needed a compass and a sextant to find their way. I mean, it’s not like they had a GPS.”

If Emma didn’t know any better, she’d say there was a look of amusement in Killian’s eyes. Except she _did_ know better. And there _was_ amusement in those damned blue eyes of his.

Before he could make some comment, Emma repeated her question. “So do you think Liam’s hiding there?”

Killian thought of it for a moment. “It’s a possibility.”

“So what we really need right now is a map.”

“I would think a map has _always_ been something we could make use of,” Killian said. Emma had half a mind to kick his shin under the table.

“Yes, but now we actually know what we’re looking for on the map.”

“I doubt you’ll find the location of _Neverland_ on a map, love.”

Emma glared at him. “Not on any normal map, no. But your uncle’s office was _flooding_ with all kinds of papers - drawings of boats, sketches of constellations... there’s bound to be a map somewhere in between all that. Or maybe it’s in his house!”

Killian thought of what she said, but he didn’t look like he agreed with her. “You’re suggesting we go back to Willesby and ransack the home of a dead man?”

“You got any better ideas?”

Killian held her stare for a moment. He said nothing. His eyes fell to his hands in his lap. Or rather, the envelopes he held. He revealed them to Emma, placing them on the table in front of him. “I wanted to show you these.”

Emma studied the envelopes, _Barrie Jones_ written on each of them.

Her eyes shot up towards Killian’s. “Are those from-”

“Liam? Aye,” Killian answered before she’d even finished her question. “I found them when I was-”

“Snooping around in Barrie’s office,” Emma finished, narrowing her eyes at him and the envelopes.

Killian only smirked. “I am a pirate after all.”

Emma ignored his joke. “What do they say?” she nodded at the letters. “Did he write anything about where he is?”

“Oh yes, the exact coordinates - I just thought I’d travel around Europe acting clueless for the fun of it.”

“Alright, stupid question,” Emma admitted. “But is there anything useful in them?”

“Why don’t you read them yourself, love. It’s mostly gibberish, but you _did_ somehow find out about Belle, so perhaps...” Killian trailed off as he handed the letters to Emma.

It seemed so clear now, what he was doing; sharing a piece of his information, so that she felt pressured to tell him how she found out about Belle.

Emma took the letters from his hand, determined not to feel pressured to do anything. Liam’s album of drawings was the only thing she had. Letting Killian know about it would risk him taking it and leaving her stranded with an angry Regina back home. And who knew how Mr. Gold would take it when he learned she’d failed something as simple as a business transaction that had already been mostly finished.

Of course, nothing about the case was simple anymore.

“Germany, Spain, and Norway,” Emma read off the post-stamps. _Maybe Germany’s actually Neverland, who knows?_ She opened Liam’s letter from Germany, noticing the lack of date. Just like his drawings.

The letter was short, Liam’s handwriting hard to read.

_Dear uncle,_

_I shouldn’t have left. I can’t stop reliving it every moment I’m awake and every second I get of sleep. I’m haunted by guilt, don’t you understand? I should never have left Killian. But I know, Neverland has to be hidden. I know. Tell Killian. Killian has to know._

_Liam_

It took Emma a good long minute to read the few lines of scribbled words. Finally, she looked up at Killian. “Tell you what?”

“I wish I knew. However, my dear uncle never did get around to telling me whatever it was he should have told me.”

“Well, Barrie obviously knew something about Neverland if Liam wrote to him about it.” Emma looked over the letter again, reading one particular line out loud. “’Neverland has to be hidden’. That means hiding the sextant?”

“Aye, that’s what I assume,” Killian nodded.

But why did Neverland have to be hidden? You couldn’t exactly hide a place... Emma chose not to ask Killian though, doubting he had any good answers.

Instead, she opened the letter from Spain. It was easier to read, though Liam’s words were pretty angry. Angry at Barrie for disowning Killian. _That was never meant to happen_.

When the rest of the letter turned out to be incoherent nonsense - which Killian didn’t believe could be code language - Emma opened the third and final letter.

_It’s done_. Those two words were followed by a poem.

“It’s our mother’s lullaby,” Killian said as she read the lyrics. It was a nice song. A song of the sea, of course, befitting the Jones family and their obsession with the ocean...

“It’s got to mean something,” Emma wondered out loud. “I mean, the ‘ _it’s done’_ probably means that the sextant was hidden by then - although it doesn’t make sense that he’d write that in a letter from Norway and not France... But what is it about the lullaby and the music boxes and everything?”

“I’m not sure,” Killian answered. “The lullaby shouldn’t mean anything to Barrie - he hardly knew our mother, and the song came from her side of the family. It was always a memory that Liam and I shared of her. I’ve been wondering if, with the instability in Liam’s mind, the lullaby was a way to keep himself grounded. But then he left his music box here, inside a torch of all things, and I can’t help but feel as if he left it there for me. He _did_ write that there was something he wanted me to know, that he shouldn’t have left me. Perhaps...” Killian trailed off, as though he thought he’d said too much.

“You think he left a trail specifically for you?” Emma guessed. “And the sextant is just like... a breadcrumb.”

“Aye. The git just isn’t very good at leaving sensible trails, is he?”

Emma thought of the album of Liam’s drawings lying in her suitcase upstairs. Without it, she would never have found out about Valadilene. Killian would never have found the sextant. She’d wondered why Liam would send a drawing of Belle to his uncle, what it was that made her so important... was this it? Belle was supposed to stand out so Emma would go to Valadilene. Or - of course - not Emma, but Killian.

Still, why send the drawing of Belle to Barrie?

_Maybe Jones has got it wrong. The trail isn’t for him, but for Barrie_... Emma didn’t like that thought, and tried to deny she’d ever thought of it. Killian’s love for his brother was one of the few things Emma was absolutely certain about. If Liam never meant for Killian to find him, but only for his uncle to find him - the uncle that had _disowned_ Killian - well, that was pretty harsh.

(She tried not to think of how much she didn’t like the thought of Killian being hurt like that.)

* * *

When Swan slouched back in her chair, Killian did the same. He hadn’t noticed how much they’d both been leaning in over the table.

Swan finished a piece of toast and sipped her coffee. She held the mug in front of her, cradling it in her hands. Killian wondered what conclusion the turning gears in her head were drawing as she stared at her mug.

He hoped he had made the right decision. Swan finding out about the sextant hadn’t been favourable, but inevitable, he supposed. As long as he kept her in the dark about the spyglass... the less she knew, the better.

Therefore, showing her Liam’s letters may have been stupid. On the other hand, there wasn’t much information for her to gain from them that he hadn’t already told her. Showing her the letters acted to gain her trust. He doubted its efficiency. But if they wanted to find Liam, they would both have to make efforts at trusting each other, even if they didn’t _truly_ trust each other.

“I really think going back to look through Barrie’s stuff is the best idea right now,” Swan broke the silence that had settled between them.

Killian understood her point. Barrie clearly knew a lot about Neverland, if Liam’s letters were to be trusted. But Killian also knew that the spyglass wouldn’t be in Willesby.

“Perhaps we should make sure we’ve exhausted all other options before we head back to Willesby.”

“Jones, we have no other options to exhaust. We’ve hit a dead-end - the best thing to do is go back to the start and look for things we weren’t looking for before.”

“But what if Neverland truly doesn’t exist in any form? You’re looking for a map that might not exist; meanwhile, Liam is somewhere in Italy or who knows where.” In truth, Killian _did_ believe in Neverland’s existence. He just knew that no map of the place existed.

Swan huffed. “What do you wanna do then? Ask Belle one more time if she knows where Liam went?”

Her question - though meant to be spiteful - sparked an idea in Killian’s mind. “Perhaps you’re right Swan. When you encounter a dead-end, going back and looking at everything with new and wiser eyes might help. And I’ve realized that we’ve asked Belle many a question, but never one about Neverland.” He raised an eyebrow, silently asking Swan what she thought.

She said nothing for a few seconds. Then her resolve seemed to wear off. “Fine. We’ll go talk to Belle. But I’ll need another cup of coffee first.”

* * *

“Neverland?” Belle repeated. They had found her in one of the aisles, replacing books on the shelves. “Well... he did say something about Neverland once, but it was a joke, really. You see, he wore this ring on a chain around his neck and when I asked him about it, he joked and said he’d gotten it from Neverland.”

A ring? Killian couldn’t remember Liam ever wearing a ring around his neck. He looked at his own bejewelled fingers - rings had always been _his_ thing.

Swan turned her head towards him. “Did Liam have a girlfriend or someone else special?”

“Not that I know of,” Killian answered. Well, he did know of a girl, but not a girl _friend_. But that was a secret he wasn’t quite willing to share yet.

Swan turned back to Belle. “You don’t know of any real place that’s sometimes referred to as Neverland, do you?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

The look Swan sent Killian wasn’t subtle in its ‘ _I told you so’._

“Well, thank you for all your help, Belle. And your patience. I think we’ll be heading back to Willesby today to see if there are any clues there that we’ve missed,” Swan said.

“I’m only sorry I haven’t been of more help,” Belle frowned; then she seemed to remember something. “What about Liam’s drawings? You said on the phone that you found me through one of Liam’s drawings - couldn’t there be other clues in the rest of them?”

_Drawings?_ Had Swan found out about Belle through a drawing?

One look at Swan told Killian she wasn’t happy about Belle mentioning those drawings. But why had she kept them a secret? To have some kind of leverage?

_Of course she kept it secret to have leverage. She doesn’t trust you any more than you trust her_ , Killian thought. _And you don’t give away your best source of information to someone you don’t trust_. He was following the same tactic after all.

* * *

Of course Belle had to go and mention the drawings. Emma tried to mask the irritation she felt, but with Killian looking at her like that, all “you’ve been keeping a secret from me, have you?” it was hard not to feel pissed.

“Um, I think you were the only clue to be found there,” Emma said, not entirely sure if she was lying or not. Finding Belle had been easy - she was the only person Liam had drawn - but how would any of the other drawings help? Going to Paris just because Liam had drawn the Eiffel Tower wasn’t exactly useful.

“Why don’t I have a look at those drawings, Swan? It’s funny you’ve never mentioned them - perhaps I have some knowledge that can help unveil a clue or two.”

Emma gritted her teeth. She knew Killian had a point. She just couldn’t risk him discovering something without telling her, and then leaving as soon as he got the chance. But it seemed the choice wasn’t hers to make anymore. Of course, she could lie and say she hadn’t brought the drawings with her. She doubted Killian would believe it though.

“They’re just drawings of landscapes and different objects,” Emma shrugged. “None of them are dated or titled or anything. Well, except the one of you, Belle.”

Emma really didn’t like the way Killian looked at her. As if he could tell what was really going on in her head, why she was reluctant to show him the drawings.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a little look? And if there’s no clue to be found, well, it’s good we’ve already got a plan for Willesby then, isn’t it?”

Emma had no way to argue with him. So she gave in and hoped she was wrong about Killian.

(That small hope didn’t bring her much comfort though.)

Emma let Killian into her room at the inn, though she had debated letting him wait outside while she found the album. It seemed too childish though - even for her.

Killian sat in the armchair leafing through the drawings as Emma surveyed his expressions from the edge of the bed. He never stopped to look at one drawing for long. But there was a constant pensiveness in his eyes, lingering on the surface.

At one drawing, a small grin lit up on Killian’s face. He turned the album towards Emma, showing her the drawing. “Look familiar?”

The sextant with its pegasus on the surface wasn’t something Emma would soon forget.

Killian continued to look through the drawings, past the picture of Belle (“and here’s our resident bookworm”), but he didn’t seem to find any clues.

Until he stopped turning the pages.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Killian stared at the picture, then darted a look up at her before looking at the door. Then back at the drawing.

He had found something. Something curious.

“Wait just a minute, love.” And like that, he rose from his seat, putting the album on the nearby dresser and left through the door.

_As if_.

Emma stood up no more than a second after Killian. She darted a look at the drawing he had singled out before following him out the door and into his room.

Killian went to his satchel, searching its pockets for who-knows-what.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked from the doorway.

Killian pulled the thing he sought out of his satchel, turning towards Emma.

_Another letter?_ she thought, looking at the envelope in his hand.

“I might have found our next clue.” He said no more. Like a man on a mission, he walked right past Emma, and back into her room.

“Are you planning on telling me what it is?” Emma asked, following him again.

Killian stood by the dresser, looking at the picture once more. He didn’t answer her; he seemed to be hesitating. But the doubt was quickly shoved away, and Killian all but ripped open the envelope.

Emma stepped closer to get a look at the paper he unfolded. Another drawing. Emma furrowed her brows and at once she understood why Killian had found the picture in the album curious.

The one he held in his hand was exactly the same. Or well, almost.

Both drawings showed the view from a terrace overlooking a city with mountains in the distance. Two grand staircases led to the terrace on each side of the drawing and two statues stood tall, framing the centre of the drawing. Emma thought of the architecture of ancient Rome, or even Greece with the three white columns in the drawing’s centre, at the foot of the staircase. Or well, in the drawing in the book, there were three columns.

There were four in Killian’s copy.

“Where’d you get that?”

Killian didn’t answer right away. As if he debated telling her the truth or not. When he spoke, Emma was certain he had chosen not to lie though.

“Liam sent it to me.”

“I... when?” The way Emma had understood it, Liam had never contacted Killian.

“Three years ago. On my 27th birthday.”

“Did he write anything with it?”

“Aye. It’s mainly gibberish about Neverland though. About how beautiful it is, but no one should ever go there. It’s how I know Barrie had the compass - he wrote it in the letter, in between various descriptions of how hauntingly beautiful Neverland is.”

Both of them looked at the drawings, going over every detail. They were almost perfect duplicates. Except for the different number of columns.

“So you think this is the clue we’re looking for?” Emma pointed at both drawings with each hand, at the spot where one drawing had a fourth column and the other didn’t.

“I reckon it’s our best bet.”

“Now we just gotta figure out where in the world this is.”

“I’m happy to surprise you there, Swan.” Killian met Emma’s questioning look with a ghost of a smile. “I’ve had this drawing for three years. Do you not think I’ve already riddled out where it’s from?”

He drew out the pause, trying to build the suspense. He only succeeded in building Emma’s annoyance.

“What, you looked at the post-stamp?”

“Alas no, the post-stamp’s from Norway, and this seems a mite too exotic for Norway... it’s Barcelona.”

“Barcelona?”

“Aye. Catalonia’s national museum of art to be precise - also known as the MNAC.” Killian’s small smile turned into a quirked eyebrow and a cocky grin. “What do you say, love - fancy taking this a bit further southward?”

Emma glared at him, unimpressed with the innuendo.

“I could definitely do with some warmer weather,” she answered. She looked at the drawings again, internally questioning how trustworthy a clue this was. “Do you think we’ll find him there? And it’ll turn out that Neverland is actually just the name of a bar or something?”

Killian chuckled. “I don’t know, Swan. Perhaps. Or perhaps all we’ll find is another breadcrumb.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter that made me realize how complex a story I'd actually come up with; I remember struggling so much, trying to make sure everything made sense and thinking it was hopeless... thankfully, my lovely beta [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/) encouraged me not to give up, haha :D and I'm so excited for the next chapters! Off to Barcelona we go! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - I hope you're enjoying the story so far, mystery and all :)))


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop - it's Friday again! And a quite special ouat Friday with the premiere of s7! 
> 
> Anyways, Emma and Killian are now on their way to Barcelona and I owe my beta [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/) such a huge thank you for helping me with these chapters! Aina's been so incredibly wonderful, and since she's from Barcelona and I've only been there once myself, well, she's definitely played a huge part in making these next few chapters what they are! So thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
> 
> And while I'm at the thank you's, let's not forget the three wonderful artists I've had the pleasure of working with: [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> And now, on with the chapter!

Emma’s day turned out to be quite busy - way too busy for someone who had barely slept all night and was living off coffee.

After she and Killian had agreed that going to Barcelona was their best option, Emma had to call the office and give them an update. Regina wasn’t thrilled with Emma’s progress. She certainly wasn’t thrilled with Emma going to Barcelona. But their work back in New York, trying to track Liam down through digital means wasn’t going very well either.

A stroke of luck (and a hasty packing and farewell to Belle) allowed Emma and Killian to be on the bus out of Valadilene two hours after their discovery of the clue. Another three and a half hours, and they were on the plane to Barcelona, ready for take-off.

Emma smiled at Mary Margaret’s text ( _just heard about Barcelona! Have fun!_ ) and was about to set her phone to flight mode when another text chimed in.

_And I hope you have time to call soon and tell me more about who this Killian Jones is... Other than him being Liam’s brother obviously. MM xx_

Emma peeked at Killian beside her. She’d won the window seat, leaving him between her and some guy who might as well have listened to music without headphones, as loud as was he blasting it. Killian’s eyes were set on the seat in front of him. Once the plane started rolling his jaw clenched. And the more speed the plane picked up, the more Killian’s grip tightened on the armrests.

Emma smirked.

“Afraid of flying, Jones?”

Killian glared at her, but soon set his eyes on the seat in front of him again. “No, Swan, I’m not _afraid_. I just happen to prefer vessels that travel on land… or water.”

“You know, to me that sounds like you’re afraid of flying.”

“And to me, it sounds like you’re enjoying this far too much,” Killian bit back.

Emma only smiled. “I guess I am.”

She let him be though, and once the plane stopped its steep ascent, the tension in Killian’s shoulders disappeared. He relaxed in his seat, and looked out of the window to a dark sky. They were meant to land in Barcelona around eight PM, and from there, Emma looked forward to going straight to their hotel. Looking for Liam could wait until tomorrow.

“So, Swan, what does your boss think of you travelling around Europe with nothing but drawings as your map?” Killian asked conversationally, all earlier traces of discomfort gone.

Emma wondered why he’d ask that question, but didn’t think much of it. “She’s not exactly happy about it. Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Regina happy.”

“Regina?” Killian asked. “I thought you were working for a Mr. Gold.”

“Oh no, he’s just the client - the guy who wants to buy _The Brothers Jones_. Regina’s my boss - the owner of _Mills’ Associates,_ ” Emma explained.

“Ah,” Killian said, as if she’d told him the answer to some difficult riddle. “What does this Mr. Gold have of interest in buying a small nearly bankrupt business anyways?”

Emma shrugged. “Expansion?” She eyed Killian, trying to read his expression. “Why do you ask?”

She thought back to her earlier theory. That Killian was only interested in finding Liam now to prevent Liam from selling the business; so that Killian could get a part in it. But why would he want a share in - as he said himself- a nearly bankrupt business?

Emma didn’t want to entertain the thought that with or without Killian’s prompting, Liam could refuse to sell. And like that, all Emma’s searching would be for naught. The sale wouldn’t go through.

“I was just wondering,” Killian answered. “ _The Brothers Jones_ doesn’t exactly strike me as a gold mine for multimillionaires.”

Emma sensed that there was something more behind Killian’s words. He didn’t say anything though, and Emma didn’t pry.

* * *

He wanted to believe his gut feeling. The gut feeling that told him Swan really was someone he could trust. That she wasn’t in league with that monster.

The plane shuddered through mild turbulence. Killian clenched his jaw again. He _wasn’t_ afraid of flying, that much was true, no matter how much Swan smirked at him. Yes, he rather preferred sailing on the Jolly Roger, but he had flown plenty of times. He knew that statistically there was nothing to fear - that didn’t stop him from finding aeroplanes highly uncomfortable.

Beside him, Swan yawned once every second minute, and stifled a yawn every other minute. He thought of offering his shoulder again. Then again, he liked it better when she wasn’t glaring or yelling at him. A small part of him hoped she might end up resting on his shoulder on her own sleepy accord. A _very_ small part of him.

But it wasn’t to be.

They landed in Barcelona and found their hotel without much trouble, both of them weary and ready for a small bite to eat and a bed straight afterwards. But despite his exhaustion, Killian lay awake long into the night. Either his head would flash with images of Liam or Gold or a blonde-haired lass who confused him entirely too much.

The mere sight of her walking towards his table at breakfast brought a smile to lips.

“Sleep well, Swan?”

“I slept,” was her grumbled response. She sat with a plate of toast and a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream - and cinnamon. Killian filed away that detail for later. He himself had a full plate of almost everything the hotel had to offer - after all, he and Liam had always been taught that breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

An hour later, Killian and Swan were well on their way to the Catalan national museum of art. Clouds hid the sun, and a small breeze took away Swan’s hope of warmer weather - why she didn’t wear a warmer jacket, Killian didn’t understand. He couldn’t complain though - he quite liked the red leather jacket.

As the four white columns came into view, so did the museum at the top of several stairs. Fountains and waterfalls adorned the space by the columns and the path to the museum. Killian and Swan stopped for a moment, just to take everything in.

It was stunning. Absolutely stunning.

Killian had wanted to come to the MNAC ever since he found out where Liam’s drawing came from. But visiting the Catalan art museum - though interesting - didn’t seem useful in finding Liam. Now that Killian knew the columns played a central purpose, he was more optimistic.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Swan asked after they’d climbed a few stairs to study the columns more closely. “A hidden message?”

Killian ran his hand over the surface of the fourth column’s plinth - the column that wasn’t depicted in the drawing Swan had found. The cement was cracked in places after years of wind, rain, sun and tourists, but Killian found nothing that indicated a cache for the spyglass.

“I’m not sure,” he answered Swan, only half-lying.

She looked at him, disbelieving, as he went on to inspect the next column.

“So you’re just looking for _anything_? And if you don’t find it, we’ve come all this way to look at four columns for nothing?”

Killian stopped to meet her critical stare. “What were you expecting, Swan? To find Liam prancing about, or perhaps tied to one of these bloody columns?”

“No,” Swan answered, trying not to let him rile her up. “I think there’s something you’re not telling me. You’re not looking for just _anything_ , I can tell that. You’re looking for something specific.”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

“I don’t know. Another sextant? Or some other ‘magical’ object?”

Killian tensed. He couldn’t know if she was merely a good guesser or if he was too obvious or if - as he feared - Swan knew more than she let on.

But there it was again. That gut feeling. Swan was a good person - a bit prickly - but she wasn’t a liar.

Unlike him.

Killian sighed and stepped forward, closing some of the space between them. “Fine. You’ve bested me, Swan. I am indeed looking for another object, though I’m sorry to say it doesn’t seem to be here.”

“What other object?”

“A spyglass.”

Swan all but rolled her eyes. “I should’ve guessed. A compass, a sextant and a spyglass - how fitting.”

“Aye. Of course, there’s a pegasus sail too.”

She looked at him as if he’d started speaking Russian. “A pegasus sail? You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” _At least then it wouldn’t really be lying_ , Killian thought.

From the looks of it, Swan didn’t believe him. He didn’t need her to believe it anyways - he only needed her to think he _might_ be speaking the truth. If his gut feeling was wrong, a wild goose chase could come in handy later.

“What even is a pegasus sail?”

Killian shrugged. “Wish I knew, love. It would make it a bit easier to find it, wouldn’t it? As it is, I’m fairly sure the object here in Barcelona is the spyglass and not the sail.”

Swan still wasn’t buying it - at least not the part about the pegasus sail.

“And you thought it might be in the column? That you could just pull it out from somewhere in front of all these people?” Swan gestured to the tourists around them. There weren’t many, it being late autumn and all, but she had a point. People would surely notice if Killian opened a cache in one of the columns and pulled out a spyglass. And someone would have noticed if Liam had put the spyglass _in_ the column, several years ago.

“Maybe the columns aren’t the final destination,” Killian mused.

Swan finished his train of thought. “It’s the museum.”

* * *

Emma knew Killian was lying. As they made their way up the stairs to the museum’s entrance, she debated what to do. Call him out on it, or wait and see why he wanted her to believe there was a pegasus sail?

Killian climbed the stairs in quick strides. Emma kept up the pace, even pushing them to walk faster.

The spyglass, she believed. Killian hadn’t told her the entire truth about Neverland and the magical objects, and well, a normal fairy tale contained _three_ magical objects, not just two. The spyglass fit.

“Why didn’t you say anything about the spyglass before?” Emma asked, managing not to sound too out of breath as they climbed the stairs. “Or that you thought you might find it here in Barcelona?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Liam’s drawings?” Killian shot back, not missing a beat.

“Because you haven’t really proved yourself trustworthy these past couple of days.”

Killian turned his head towards her, as if he could read her like an open book. “You thought that if I found a clue in the drawings I’d keep my mouth shut and leave, didn’t you?”

Emma didn’t answer him.

“Well, love, have I left?”

Emma still didn’t answer. They both knew the answer anyways.

Reaching the top of the stairs after three more steps, Killian stopped to look at her. “Forgive me if I don’t trust a person who clearly doesn’t trust me. But I’m keeping my word - we’ll find Liam together. Now let’s see if the git’s left us a spyglass inside this bloody museum.”

Killian strode on towards the entrance to the grand museum. Emma followed right behind him, contemplating his words.

She understood him. She hated to admit it, but she understood - had she been in his shoes, she would never even have told herself anything about Neverland. First of all, because it was crazy. Second of all, Killian was right; she didn’t trust him so why should he trust her?

_But snapping at me doesn’t exactly make me want to trust you more, buddy_ , Emma thought, glaring at his back.

The interior of the museum stole Emma’s breath away - and almost her anger with it. The architecture was just as majestic on the inside as it was outside, with intricate columns, a pristine floor and a beautiful ceiling high above.

When she took in the numerous groups of people and a few guards lingering here and there, the real worry dawned on Emma. She angled her steps closer to Killian’s as they walked away from the desks, entrée tickets in hand.

“You don’t really think Liam hid the spyglass in _here_ , do you?”

He smirked at her with a quirked eyebrow. “Why Swan, afraid to get your hands dirty?”

“Who do I look like - Nicholas Cage?”

Emma might as well have sprouted horns the way he was looking at her. “Why the bloody hell would you look like Nicholas Cage?”

“You know, _National Treasure_ , with the treasure hunting and stuff, where he steals the Deceleration of Independence and...” Emma’s rambling explanation did nothing to lessen the confusion in Killian’s eyes.

“Sounds like a thrilling tale.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to _live_ it. I’m a lawyer, not some...”

“Pirate?” Killian finished for her. Not the word she was going for, but it did the trick. “Relax Swan, we’re not about to steal _The Deceleration of Independence_ or anything of that scale. We’re just taking a look around.” He turned left, down a hall exhibiting medieval Romanesque art, a cheeky grin lighting up his face.

Emma followed with a huff.

She refused to ask Killian what he was looking for and if he was sure he’d find it in an old carved rock. She didn’t bother asking if he intended to look at every piece of art in the entire museum. She stayed quiet, going through the exhibitions at a pace equal to his. Her enthusiasm was much more feigned though.

Emma had first discovered it in the bus towards Valadilene, and several times after. Her silence was like a challenge to him. He liked a clever battle of words, a few innuendoes and a cheeky comment. Sooner or later, he’d be doing his best at goading her into talking to him. But she wouldn’t give in.

It was a childish thing to do, she knew that. The satisfaction, however, was too great for her to care. And maybe he’d reveal something that he shouldn’t have, out of simple frustration.

“Have you ever had a great interest in art, Swan?” Killian asked as they stood next to each other, studying a biblical painting in the Renaissance collection.

Emma shrugged. “Not really.” Then she turned and left to study the other wall of paintings.

Killian followed soon after.

“Liam was always fond of drawing,” he started. “As a boy, I’d copy everything he did - imagine my frustration when I was never able to draw or paint something quite as stunning as he.”

Emma was brought back to her own childhood, crayons in hand. Watching the other kids proudly write ‘to mom’ or ‘to dad’ with awkward letters and misspellings. Emma had no one to give her drawings to. No one who would think to keep them. Until Ingrid, of course.

“It’s fitting really,” Killian continued, “that he would plant a treasure map in his drawings now - one more chance to annoy the bloody hell out of me.”

Emma had always wondered what it would be like to have an older brother or sister. Someone she could look up to. Someone who would only tease her because that’s what siblings do. And in the end, they’ll always love each other. Because that’s what a family is.

Emma glanced at Killian, trying to gauge his feelings. He knew what it felt like to have a sibling. A whole family.

But he also knew what it felt like to lose them.

She walked away. Over to the next painting, unable to deal with whatever it was she felt. Sympathy? Jealousy? Compassion?

She almost bumped into a woman with red wavy hair and startling green eyes. But then the woman was gone and Emma was left looking at a painting of an all too familiar motive - another freaking ship.

She turned away immediately. Only to meet Killian’s eyes. She saw the confusion as it melted into realization, subtle as it was. He opened his mouth to say something, though Emma wished he wouldn’t. But the words died on his tongue. His eyes were caught by something else - the painting that Emma had turned away from.

“Does that look familiar to you, love?”

Emma turned around again to give it a second glance as Killian stepped towards her, standing beside her. “What, another ship?”

The ship was an old galleon, Emma knew not how old. From the Renaissance was her best bet. A typical Spanish ship. Like something from _The Pirates of the Caribbean_. In the painting, it sailed out into a cloudy night with a few stars peeking out high above, the cool light from the moon and the warm yellow lights from the ship’s windows reflecting in the waves.

“Do you not feel like you’ve seen it before?” Killian pushed. Emma darted a look at him, then followed his concentrated line of gaze back to the painting. She tilted her head a little.

“Well... maybe? I feel like I’ve seen a lot of ships in drawings lately.” She looked back at Killian, realizing what he was getting at. “You think Liam drew something like this?”

“Aye. I’m not entirely positive, but there’s something about it....” He turned his head towards her. “You didn’t happen to bring the album with you here?”

“What, to the museum? Does it look like I’m carrying a book on me?” Emma gestured to her person, no bag slung over her shoulder, and certainly no space for a book.

Killian shrugged. “One never knows with you lasses - you always seem to be pulling various items out of nowhere.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but the album’s back at the hotel,” Emma answered dryly.

Killian stayed quiet, his eyes following movements that Emma couldn’t see as he contemplated something. “What do you say we go back and check if our painting here indeed has been copied by Liam?”

“Sure, I mean, if you think it’s worth looking into. But what happened to the spyglass being here in the museum?”

“It might still be - but I’d rather not have to check every little crack in the wall or loose tile in the floor. And while Liam was skilled with a pencil or a brush, I was always best at a sleight of hand; something tells me he would’ve had a difficult time hiding away a spyglass with all these cameras and guards about,” Killian nodded at a security camera in the corner. “No, hiding a clue in a painting is a very ‘Liam’ thing to do, is it not?”

Emma looked back at the painting of the galleon. “So we’re looking for a copy of... _Santa Maria del Mar_ ,” she read, trying her best at a Spanish pronunciation. “Saint Mary... something...”

“Saint Mary of the Sea.”

Emma looked at Killian. _That was a quick and confident translation_.

“You speak Spanish?”

“Aye, a little bit.” Killian smiled and added, “you’d be surprised what different knowledge you can acquire when you try your hand at writing.”

* * *

Emma and Killian made it back to the hotel within half an hour. Emma made sure Killian didn’t ask her about the look he’d seen in her eyes when he spoke of Liam, or say whatever it was he was going to say before he noticed the painting. Instead, she asked him a few more questions about his knowledge of Spanish.

(“ _Why do you need to know Spanish for your stories?”_

_“I don’t.”_

_“Then why do you_ know _Spanish? Or well, know a little bit.”_

_A shrug. “Procrastination, I reckon.”)_

Killian asked Emma if _she_ spoke any other languages.

( _“I don’t think I remember anything from my high school French other than how to introduce myself.”_

_“Was this not your first time in France then?”_

_“No, it was. First time in Europe actually.”_

_“Ah. And how are you finding it here on the other side of the pond?”_

_“The reason I’m here could’ve been better... and the company.”_

_“You wound me, Swan.”_ )

Once they made it to the hotel, Emma let Killian into her room. Like in Valadilene, they shared a wall between their rooms. Fortunately, the walls were thicker here.

Upon entering, Emma felt something strange. She looked around her room trying to figure out what it was. Something just felt... off.

Her suitcase lay where she had left it on the side of the bed facing away from the door. The lid was closed but unzipped, the way she’d left it. Killian feigned interest in the view as she shuffled through her clothes to grab Liam’s album of drawings. It wasn’t like she had heaps of bras and lacy underwear packed. Why he felt the need to look away, she didn’t know.

She _was_ beginning to realize, that her extended stay in Europe was either going to cost a trip to a laundromat or a clothing store.

The strange feeling, prickling at the back of her neck lingered. She grabbed the album and sat with it on the bed. Killian went to sit beside her.

With the album lying between them, Emma began to leaf through the pages. There were definitely drawings of ships. _Lots_ of them.

Emma turned another page. Her hand fell away from the corner of the paper.

“That’s it,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.

Liam’s drawing wasn’t a perfect duplicate of the one in the museum. For one, he had used pencils, not oil paints. And Liam’s drawing had a few more stars lighting up the sky.

“I told you, Swan.”

Emma looked at him, effectively saying “ _Really?”_ without actually saying it.

“Does Saint Mary of the Sea mean anything to you then?” she asked.

Killian pondered it for a moment. “It does sound familiar.”

Emma pulled out her phone from her pocket, switching on her data. “Let’s see if what you haven’t learned through procrastination or whatever, can be learned through Google instead.”

A quick search gave them all the information they needed. Saint Mary of the Sea - or _Santa Maria del Mar_ \- was amongst other things, the name of a church. A church that also went by _Cathedral of the Sea_.

And it was located about two miles away from their hotel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far!! And all of your comments are just amazing - they never fail to make me smile, so thank you!!!
> 
> and once again, thank you, Aina! (believe it or not, my original plan was for them to go to Munich, but then I got Aina as my beta and I'm so happy I did, because I have no clue what I would've done with the story in Munich, haha)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's Friday again! I'm actually doing a bit of traveling of my own right now, visiting my sister in Scotland - and my other sister is actually in Barcelona right now with my mom, which I thought was quite the funny coincidence, huh? :) anyways, though my traveling means I can't watch the new episode of ouat and all the glorious last captain swan moments, I'm still able to update this story, so yay! Hope you guys enjoy it!!
> 
> As always, a huge shout-out to the amazing people I've worked with during the CSBB: [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!

"I don't think we can go there until five pm though," Emma said, looking at her phone. "It's closed for visitors from one until then, and it's 12:15 right now."

She scrolled further down the church's website. Santa Maria del Mar was an old 14th century gothic church and they could reach it by foot in less than half an hour. But that would have to wait.

A foot or two to her left, Killian sat on the bed, leafing through Liam's album once again. He looked up at her, a flirtatious look in his eyes. "What ever shall we do with all that time?"

Emma didn't respond; her attention was drawn to the sketch Killian had turned to.

"Doesn't that look like the church?" She jerked her phone towards Killian so he could compare the photographs of the church with Liam's drawing. He leaned closer towards her to get a better look at her phone.

"Aye, there's a certain similarity. That window isn’t quite the same though."

Emma leaned closer as well to get a better look at the photo on her phone while comparing it with Liam's drawing. Never mind that hers and Killian's heads were nearly touching.

Killian was right. In the photographs, the large circular window above the main entrance of the church had an intricate, gothic tracery. Liam had drawn it as the star of a compass instead. Aside from that, the churches were identical. The same grand arched doorway, with arched windows to the sides and two corner towers.

"That's gotta be another sign," Emma said.

Killian agreed. "I'm growing more and more optimistic about this Santa Maria del Mar. It beats me how my brother could have hidden a spyglass in a church though."

Emma shrugged. "Maybe he's sneakier than you give him credit for."

She made the mistake of looking at Killian while they were still leaned in over Liam's album and her phone. His face was much closer than it should be, his eyes...

"But no one's as good as I, love."

Emma's mind went blank for a moment. No one should be able to make such innocent words sound so obscene. Luckily, she remembered herself before her jaw could actually drop open. She leaned back towards the head of the bed and huffed.

"You know, talking about how sneaky and thieving you are still isn't a good idea to do around someone who works with the law."

"Aye, but we've already established that you're not going to turn me in."

"Because I can't really turn you in for bragging about how ‘sneaky’ you are." Emma narrowed her eyes at him. "You haven't actually done something I _can_ turn you in for, right?"

Killian waggled his eyebrows. "Wouldn't you like to know."

A sharp gust of wind blew through the window, playing with the drapery. The feeling prickling at the back of Emma's neck returned; she didn't remember leaving the window open. Leaving Killian on the bed, she went to close the hatch. It wasn't open by much more than a sliver, but still a sliver more open than she remembered leaving it. She surveyed the fire escape that went past the window, down to a back-alley.

"Something wrong, love?"

Emma turned to look at Killian, still sitting there on her bed.

"No,” she lied, and thought for a moment before adding, “actually, I could use some lunch right about now."

* * *

Emma made sure the door to her hotel room was properly locked when they left. The window too. Killian brought Liam’s album with them in his satchel.

They found a decent sandwich bar near their hotel, and walked through the city afterwards, stopping to look at different sights when they pleased.

Emma refused to do anything too touristy. She was there for work, not on a vacation.

Killian was of a different mind.

(“Look, Swan! They’ve got bike tours!”

“Seriously? You want to go on a bike tour?”

“I hear they’re quite lovely.”

...

“No.”)

As long as they didn’t do anything too touristy - such as a _bike tour_ \- Emma could deny that she was basically on a sightseeing trip with the least trustworthy guy she’d met in a long time.

And she would deny the fact that she was enjoying herself until the day she died.

In the end, they settled for visiting another museum. For one, it was warmer in there. And Emma could walk through it at her own pace, without having to talk to Killian. She kept an eye open for any signs that could cause the prickling in her neck to return. None came. But that didn’t stop her from worrying.

When the time finally came for them to visit the basilica of Santa Marie del Mar, Emma found herself looking over her shoulder more than once on their walk to the church.

“Everything alright, Swan?” Killian asked after she’d looked behind for the third time.

“I don’t know.”

Killian scrunched his brow at her answer. “You act like we’re being followed.”

“I... it’s probably nothing.” From the looks of it, Killian didn’t believe her any more than she did. Soon enough, he was looking over his shoulder as often as she.

When Emma’s phone chimed, she nearly jolted in shock. A lengthy text from Mary Margaret greeted her on the screen.

_Hey Emma! Just giving you a quick update, not that it’s much. We still can’t find any recent traces of Liam. The latest is from six years ago where he took the ferry from Denmark to Norway. Otherwise, it’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth. Regina’s thinking about giving it a week more, and if we don’t find him, we’ll work on declaring him unable to decide the fate of the business, and we’ll be able to conclude the case. Meanwhile, I think you should just enjoy your time in Europe! Oh, and maybe call your mom - she’s been asking me about you and Walsh and I’m not sure what to tell her. Hope you’re having fun!_

Killian gave Emma a questioning look as she sighed. She’d rather not delve into how annoyingly nagging Ingrid could be. On second thought though, she could tell him _some_ of what Mary Margaret had written.

“It’s my friend and colleague Mary Margaret. They’re working on tracing Liam back in New York through records, but it’s not going too well. And apparently Regina is calling a deadline in a week. If we don’t find Liam by then, it’s gonna be a lot of case work, getting the business sold without Liam’s consent.”

Killian steered them down a street to the right. He’d insisted on finding the church using a real map instead of Emma’s phone, saying it was more fun that way. Emma had rolled her eyes at him, but let him do as he pleased. As long as he didn’t get them lost.

(Although getting to prove that Google Maps worked better once he’d gotten them lost did sound fun.)

“But it’s possible, is it not? If Liam never steps forth and takes over the business, it will have to end up in the hands of _someone_ ,” Killian said.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna take a lot more work and time than just finding Liam and getting him to sign the contract.”

Killian fussed with the map for a second before pointing out the right direction again.

“A week, you say? That’s not much,” Killian said. “And yet you you’re willing to look for a spyglass with me instead of actually looking for Liam.”

Killian spoke the very thought that had been turning in Emma’s head for a while now. She didn’t know what good a spyglass or a sextant or anything would do in finding Liam. Probably nothing. But...

“What’s _your_ plan? Once you have all these things, how do you plan to find Liam?”

“I’m not quite sure, love.”

“Exactly. Right now, crazy as it is, the only plan you’ve got - and the only clue _I’ve_ got - is finding these damned objects. Might as well do what we _can_ do, instead of looking for Liam like a needle in a haystack.”

Voicing her reasons erased some of the doubt Emma had about this mission. Sure, Neverland and all that was crazy. But if finding Liam took her finding a spyglass first, she’d put aside how crazy it all was and do it.

A few more minutes - and one wrong turn that was quickly corrected - found Emma and Killian in front of the Cathedral of the Sea. It wasn’t the largest of churches, though hardly small either. But amongst the narrow streets it would look imposing no matter its true size.

The grand doors were closed, bringing Emma to look at her phone’s clock. It was past five, so the church should be open to visitors again.

A burly man sitting on the steps by the door looked up at Emma and Killian. He noticed their hesitation and spoke - with words that Emma didn’t understand.

“Està obert,” he nodded towards the door.

“Perfecte!” Killian replied. “Moltes gràcies!”

Emma stared at Killian, dumbfounded with the way the foreign words just rolled off his tongue.

Killian gestured for her to go forth towards the door. “He said it’s open, and I believe it’s lady’s first.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Nice Spanish-skills.”

Killian scratched a spot behind his ear. “It’s Catalan actually. And I don’t really know that much - just enough for a tourist to get by.”

“Why, it almost sounds like you’re trying to be modest, Jones,” Emma teased.

Killian looked her in the eyes as if trying to defy her. “I know some ancient Greek as well.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course you do.”

Like at the MNAC, all words disappeared when she entered the church. It was simple but large, with columns reaching high above to support the ceiling. Light fell through glass stained windows, and although there was a fair crowd of people, there was a certain tranquillity about the cathedral.

Emma and Killian walked around for a while. Neither said much, except words of admiration for the architecture. When they reached the alter, Emma stepped closer towards Killian so she could keep her voice down.

“Something tells me Liam would have had a hard time hiding a spyglass in here. And we’ll have an even harder time getting it.”

“Aye, you’re right. It’s too crowded.” Killian looked around, the gears turning in his head. “Perhaps it’s not here in the nave or the aisles.”

“What, like in the crypts?” Emma asked, thinking of the sign at the entrance of the church, advertising a tour to the crypts. “Or the rooftop?”

“The rooftop,” Killian said. “Liam drew the church but altered one detail - a window near the top of the church. He’d have hidden the spyglass near the window.”

“Makes sense,” Emma agreed.

And so, Emma and Killian paid for a tour of the rooftop.

They ended up with a small woman guiding them up the narrow spiralling stairs. Along with a group of about ten tourists.

Emma and Killian listened as their guide told them of the church and its surroundings. They listened as she rambled on about the church’s history. And it’s different restorations.

A cold wind blew as their guide continued to talk to the group on the rooftop terrace. Emma and Killian shared a look. How were they going to check the rooftop for a hidden spyglass with a guide demanding their full attention?

The last sunlight was disappearing, and lights were emitting all over the city. Emma had to admit it looked beautiful. But the dark made it much more difficult to discreetly check the rooftop for any hidden caches. Killian had told her the sextant had been in a hole in the cave wall. Her best bet was the spyglass being behind a brick.

Of course, _which_ brick was hard to guess.

The rooftop terraces spanned around the entire church - excluding above the main entrance though, where the window Liam had redrawn was. Diagonal braces built of brick that sloped into the wall of the church divided the terraces. Their guide kept them on one terrace, but it was possible to walk past the sloped brick fences and explore the rest of the rooftop.

If only their guide would give them some time for themselves.

Emma could tell Killian was thinking the same. Both had scoured the one terrace as well as they could, pretending to listen to their guide as they quietly walked around. There were no signs of a hidden spyglass. No suspiciously loose bricks or tiles.

“...and that’s about all I had to tell you. You can have some time now to take photos if you want or just enjoy the view, and we’ll go back down in five minutes,” the guide finally finished.

Emma and Killian shared another look. This one an urgent _let’s go check out the rest of the rooftop_.

They weren’t really sure if guests were allowed to pass the sloped brick fences. But their guide was occupied with an elderly couple interested in hearing a bit more. The path was clear.

Emma stepped over first, Killian close behind. For a few seconds both of them checked the wall of the church, running their hands over the bricks and using the last light to search for any signs of a cache. Emma turned to Killian, half-whispering, “I’ll go check the next section.”

Killian nodded. He continued to search that part of the rooftop as Emma stepped over to the next terrace, keeping an eye on the rest of the tourists and their guide. No one had noticed them yet.

Unexpected excitement coursed through Emma. She felt like she was in some movie, sneaking around, looking for hidden treasure.

So when she found exactly the kind of thing she was looking for, she could only imagine the dramatic zoom-in that would have occurred.

“Killian!” she half-whispered, half-shouted.

“Aye?” Killian’s head popped up on the other side of the barrier.

“I think I found something.”

Quick as a flash, Killian joined her on her side of the barrier. Emma pointed out what she’d found; a faint marking in one of the bricks, hardly noticeable. Especially in near darkness. But the star of a compass was etched into the brick, and Emma could feel it when she ran her finger over it. To most it would look like nothing but a scratch, but Emma knew better.

“Bloody hell, you found it, Swan!”

Emma couldn’t help but meet his grin with one of her own. She placed her fingers at the edge of the brick, ready to pull it out of the wall. It _did_ seem rather loose...

“Excuse me?”

Emma and Killian’s heads jerked towards the voice speaking. Their guide, sweet and smiling stood on the other side of the brick fence. “I’m sorry, but visitors aren’t allowed over here; we have to keep together - for safety reasons.”

Emma stood with her mouth open, feeling dumb. She could sense Killian’s stupor from how tense his back was.

“Oh, um, sorry. We didn’t know, we were just, uh, exploring the architecture” Emma tried.

“Aye, we were searching for a nice place for a photograph,” Killian threw in. Emma looked at him. He’d plastered on his best disarming smile. _Of course_.

“It’s no problem,” the guide said. She returned Killian’s smile, and Emma did not want to think about the annoyance she suddenly felt. _Of course I’m annoyed - we were so close to getting the damned spyglass!_

“Did you want a picture together?” the guide asked as Emma and Killian made their way back to the main terrace. “’Cause I can take it for you if you’d like.”

Killian answered before Emma got the chance. “Why that would be wonderful, love!” He turned towards Emma. “You’ve got the camera, right?”

Emma hoped the daggers she sent him with her eyes were clear enough. She faked a smile though, unlocked her phone and handed it over to the guide.

Killian positioned himself by the edge of the rooftop, leaning up against the brick wall with the city lights of Barcelona behind him. He nodded at Emma to stand beside him. Which she grudgingly did. She barely managed to fake a smile when he put an arm around her shoulder and the guide took the picture.

“Oh, you look really cute together!” she said, handing the phone back to Emma. Emma was less than a second away from saying “we’re _not_ together”, but the guide had turned away and begun calling everyone back downstairs.

Their chance at getting the spyglass was lost.

“How are we going to check out that brick with guides around?” Emma whispered to Killian once they’d made their way back down to the entrance of the church.

Killian shrugged, looking at her. “We could come back at night?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Got any better ideas, love?”

Emma thought for a moment, looking back at the desk where tickets to the rooftop-tour were sold. “Well... we just need a little distraction.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow at that. Emma pointed over to the desk. “See - they’ve got shorter accompanied tours but without the history lesson. We’ll have fifteen minutes to check out the brick and all we’ll need is for the guide to be a bit... distracted.”

“Distracted how, love?” Killian asked. Once again, Emma made the mistake of looking into those way-too-blue eyes.

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. One of us talks to them, the other gets the spyglass.”

“Why, I’d be more than willing to use my charms on our lovely guide from before.”

“Hardly gonna work when you let her get the impression that we were _together_.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Swan, I’d say you sound jealous.”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. “You wish.”

In the end, Killian didn’t get much of a chance to ‘use his charms’. Their guide wasn’t the same as before - and he was very much male. Killian still offered his service, but Emma was fairly certain their new guide would enjoy _her_ attention far more than Killian’s. That is, if the way he was eyeing her was anything to go by.

They made their way back up to the rooftop, Emma running her fingers through her hair to make sure it looked _just_ right. Killian was uncommonly silent behind her.

A fully dark sky greeted them outside, but lamps lit up the terrace. At once, the rest of the tourists were at the edge of the rooftop, pointing out at the city lights, taking pictures or just taking everything in.

Emma glanced at their guide who remained by the door to the stairs. He was probably younger than her, but not the worst-looking. Sure, she preferred a bit of scruff on a man, and hair that wasn’t too long but not so short that she couldn’t get a good run through it with her fingers... Emma turned towards Killian. And if she didn’t know any better, she’d say there was a bit of contempt in his eyes as he looked at their guide.

She couldn’t help the small smile that found its way to her mouth.

“Ready, Jones?”

His eyes flickered towards her and some of that dark... _whatever_ was still there.

“Aye. Won’t need much more than a minute, so no need to get too cosy with ogling-eyes over there.”

Emma smirked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” she threw his words back at him.

The look in his eyes only darkened. But in a less... contemptuous way. He didn’t answer her though, only clenched his jaw and walked past her towards the left where they’d found the marked brick. Emma took that as her cue and walked towards the guide. She didn’t know why she felt so excited. She hardly needed to seduce the guy or even flirt with him; she only had to make sure he looked the other way. But something about the look in Killian’s eyes kept a grin on her face.

* * *

So what if Swan seemed excited at getting to flirt with some guy. Killian couldn’t care less. Of course, she didn’t _have_ to flirt with him. One could keep others occupied in various other completely innocent ways.

If only his traitorous mind would steer away from the _less_ innocent ways of keeping someone - Swan in particular - occupied.

Killian only glanced back to make sure no one was looking at him. Swan had made her way over to the guide, keeping him faced in the other direction. She looked a bit perplexed, but Killian had no time to ponder that. He stepped over the sloped barrier, striding towards the next terrace where Swan had found the marked brick.

Light was scarcer there, but Killian found the brick again. In a slight crouch, his deft fingers got a hold of its corners, pulling it out of its place. It was easier than he had imagined; the brick all but slipped out.

_A wonder no one’s noticed it before_ , Killian thought. He laid the brick on the ground. - Or _maybe they have_.

Killian could have yelled with frustration when he looked at the new gap in the wall.

It was empty. No spyglass in sight.

Killian squinted, hoping against hope that he just couldn’t see it in the dark. His hand fumbled in the gap, searching for _anything_.

And it wasn’t in vain. Killian didn’t pull any spyglass out of the wall, no, but a folded piece of paper. _Another drawing_.

In the dim light, the statue of a mermaid greeted Killian on the paper. Liam hadn’t hid the spyglass in Barcelona, but another bloody clue.

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. He had been so close and so sure that the spyglass would be there. But no, his idiot of a brother really wanted him to travel throughout all of Europe.

Killian folded the drawing back up and stuffed it in the pocket of his leather coat. He tried consoling himself - at least he’d found another clue, and not just an empty hole.

Swan was less optimistic.

“Seriously? Another drawing?”

“Aye,” Killian answered. He waited until they had left the church before grabbing it from his pocket and handing it over to her. They stopped on the pavement as Swan surveyed the newly-found drawing.

“So what, we find out where this is, go there, and start all over again?”

Killian understood the frustration in her voice. He felt it simmering beneath his own skin. Yet...

“Think of it this way, love: if we _had_ found the spyglass, we would have been devoid of new clues. Liam very well wasn’t hiding behind that brick, and he’s our goal, not some old spyglass, aye?”

Swan tilted her head, nodding absent-mindedly. “I guess you’re right.”

Killian’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas. “Oh, those words do sound lovely coming from your mouth, Swan. Say it again?”

She rewarded him with a glare. Not a harsh one though, and to Killian that was a victory. She folded the drawing again and lightly slammed it against his chest.

“I’m gonna go find something to eat, Jones.”

He took the drawing as she walked past him; and quickly spun around to follow her.

Killian managed to steer her in the direction of a certain street. He’d read about it in a pamphlet at the hotel, and once he’d noticed her penchant for hot chocolate, he’d thought of taking her there. As a small sign of good faith - or rather, friendliness.

_Carrer Petritxol_ was a street famous for chocolate in all its forms. Perhaps a short break at a café, a cup of hot chocolate or a cake or something could get Swan to warm up to him. Not that he _needed_ her to warm up to him, he just...

_Bloody hell, who even cares?_

A bit less nonchalantly than he would’ve liked, Killian stopped by the window of one of the cafés - a _Granja La Pallaresa_.

“Why, doesn’t this place look charming?”

Swan stopped to look back at him with questioning eyes.

“What do you say, Swan, fancy a cup of hot chocolate? I’m sure they’ll have some cinnamon in store for you.”

The questioning look in her eyes deepened and then turned to contemplation. Killian’s heart was beating much faster than it should be as Swan looked from him to the café and back again. He could practically hear the gears in her head turning.

But he could read the thoughts shimmering over her face as well. As easy as any open book.

* * *

The cinnamon threw her off. Or well, him suggesting they go to a cozy café threw her off in general, but the cinnamon... he must’ve noticed it at breakfast. And for some reason decided to remember it.

Emma glanced through the windows of the café. It really did look nice. She could just imagine sinking back into a cushioned chair, a warm cup of chocolate in her hands.

But the thought of Killian sitting there with her - she couldn’t do it. It just seemed too... intimate.

_It’s a wonder Walsh didn’t give up on me before if I think_ hot chocolate _is too intimate._

Thinking of Walsh was the last drop.

Emma turned to Killian, her mind made up.

“How about something stronger?”

* * *

 

They found a bar close to their hotel, serving both dinner and drinks. Before long, the beer accompanying Emma’s burger and onion rings turned to a glass of sangria. Or two. And maybe a glass of rum too, after Killian praised its quality.

“So, where do you think the mermaid statue’s gonna lead us?” Emma asked. They’d found their own corner in the bar, not so secluded that things felt too _intimate_ and not too far from the bar, but far enough away from the stage, so the band’s music wasn’t blasted directly at them. It was nice with some live music though - _really_ nice actually.

Emma felt good. All the worries the past days had burdened her with had faded to the back of her head. Even discussing where their hopeless mission was going next wasn’t a huge problem.

“Well, _The Little Mermaid_ ’s a Danish fairy tale, I believe. So, Denmark?”

“Denmark...” Emma repeated. “It’s cold there, isn’t it?”

“About the same as in England, I suppose,” Killian answered. “But it’s a smaller country, so scouring it for Liam will only take _half_ a century.”

Emma snorted. Actually snorted. Which was how she realized another drink probably wasn’t a good idea.

“I can’t believe this is seriously my life right now,” she said under her breath, not sure if she wanted Killian to hear or not. It just seemed so ironic, being in Europe, looking for someone who clearly didn’t want to be found or he would have made it an easier job for them. At least he’d left drawings. Letters.

That was more than what could be said for Emma’s parents. A baby blanket with her name on it and not a word - not then, and not ever. She’d given up looking for them after her first year at college, finally feeling like she could be whole without knowing why her parents had left her. Without knowing if they had even cared about her.

“Everything alright, Swan?”

Emma looked up to see blue eyes with unveiled concern and _fuck_. She _seriously_ could not believe that this was her life.

“Yeah.” The word felt small and dry in her mouth. She needed to change the subject - avoid the inevitable question he was about to ask - as fast as possible.

But her mind was blank. Downing the last drop of rum it was then. “You’re right, this is pretty good,” she said, licking her lips.

“Aye. A shame to be drinking it so fast though. Usually, pleasures as fine as this should be savoured.” The words rolled off his tongue in a sinful manner as he brought his own glass to his lips.

Emma stopped herself from staring. Although her mind was screaming ‘stupid idea!’ she shrugged and said, “I’ll just get another one.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow. “Quite in the festive mood aren’t you?” Emma followed his line of gaze to the four empty glasses already in front of her. Sure, he was only on his second glass of rum, but who was he to judge?

“I’ve got a bachelorette party to train for,” Emma excused. “And a wedding.” Killian chuckled as she got up to go the bar. “You want another glass?” she offered.

“You trying to get me drunk, Swan?”

“Well it’s no fun alone, is it?”

She had to be careful, she knew that. But her mind was in that blissful state of not really caring, so she went to the bar and got that glass of rum that she really shouldn’t let herself drink. And a glass for Killian of course.

“When you say wedding, I assume it’s not your own,” Killian said when she got back.

Emma snorted. Again. “Thank god, no.”

“Averse to tying the knot, are you?”

“Well, I did just end a relationship because he proposed...” Emma blamed the rum one hundred percent for that thought slipping out of her mouth and becoming actual words. That Killian could hear. “But, you know, there were other reasons as well...” _And I haven’t actually_ really _broken up with him yet, because it’s too shitty to do over the phone, but yeah, it was implied..._ “Anyways, it’s Mary Margaret’s wedding actually. Finally marrying her college sweetheart David. They’re sickening, really. Therefore the need for alcohol,” Emma rambled. Thankfully, Killian let her avoid talking about Walsh, even acting like she hadn’t said anything.

“Well, cheers for the bride and groom to be!”

They talked for about an hour more, Emma steering clear of further awkward conversations - and alcohol. Instead, she told stories of stupid things she had done with Mary Margaret and Ruby - who now held the title of Mary Margaret’s maid of honour - during college. Killian told stories of some rather unfortunate happenings during his travels as a writer. Unfortunate for him - _hilarious_ for Emma to hear about.

She couldn’t deny, she was having fun. A lot of fun. Who would’ve thought? She blamed the alcohol though - it always did make her a bit more carefree. And without it, she would _never_ admit that she was enjoying the company of Killian Jones.

Around ten o’clock she started thinking that maybe going back to the hotel - to _sleep_ , in their own _separate_ bedrooms - would be a good idea. She excused herself to go the bathroom first though.

* * *

Killian watched Swan make her way through to the lady’s room. Something tugged at the corner of his lips. A nice feeling - a happy feeling - simmered through his body in a way it hadn’t done in a long time. He could blame the rum but...

Killian looked at the fair share of glasses they’d emptied together during the evening. It sure had been nice not to drink alone for once.

He swirled the last drops of rum in his glass as an unbidden image flashed through his head. It had been nagging him for the better part of the evening, lingering just beneath the surface. The look in Swan’s eyes. The look she’d masked as well as she could, going up to the bar for another drink. For a chance at an escape.

He knew that look all too well, had seen it in the mirror countless of times. Seeping through cracks when his mother died. Spreading like a slow wave when the news of his father’s drunken accident left him an orphan. Finally taking over, stealing that last bit of hope when Liam left and he found himself feeling more of an orphan than ever.

The look you get when you’ve been left behind.

Killian looked towards the door Emma had disappeared through. That last bit of doubt, last bit of distrust finally faded away. There was a lot more to Emma’s story than she’d let any stranger know, but it had nothing to do with Gold, Killian was sure of that.

He trusted her.

Admitting it was like finally liberating himself of a headache, but it did nothing to lessen the weight he felt on his shoulders. If anything, it only added a new weight on his chest.

The broken look in her eyes filtered through his head when he closed his own. He tried getting rid of it. All he did was add more flashes of her, his head swimming in images of Emma Swan. The smirk she’d given him when he’d briefly turned them in the wrong direction when walking towards the cathedral. The turning gears showing behind her eyes whenever she contemplated something. The ghost of a laugh when she admitted their second guide hardly spoke a word of English and she had to keep him occupied with improvised sign language. The secret relief he had felt at that... not to mention the unbidden relief he felt to hear Emma wasn’t involved with anyone. At least not anymore.

_Bloody hell._

The last woman to have swarmed his head like that had been Milah…

Killian downed the rest of his rum. A buzzing in his pocket saved him from his spiralling thoughts and he could hardly remember ever being so grateful for a phone call.

“Aye, it’s Killian Jones.”

The woman on the other end wasted no time in answering.

“Hi, Killian, it’s Elsa.” A faint chill ran down his back. “It’s about Liam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! and a special thank you to all of you wonderful people who have left a comment, you're seriously amazing! :)))


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all of your wonderful comments! I love hearing what you think! :))
> 
> As always, a huge shout-out to the amazing people I've worked with during the CSBB: [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!

Something was wrong. Emma sensed it the moment she came back from the restroom and saw Killian looking all sullen.

“What’s up with you?”

Killian’s shoulders tensed - he hadn’t even noticed her presence before she spoke.

Something was _definitely_ wrong.

“I, uh, received a rather unexpected phone call.”

_So he’s finally the one on the phone and I don’t get a chance to eavesdrop?_ Emma thought a little bitterly. She wasn’t as annoyed with his eavesdropping as she had been earlier, but she still wished to get even with him.

“Good unexpected?” She tried, sitting down in the booth.

“Depends on how you look at it,” Killian answered, rather vaguely. Emma waited for him to elaborate. “It was a woman named Elsa. From Norway. It seems she knows a thing or two about my dear brother.”

“Seriously?” Emma exclaimed, wondering how that could be considered bad news. “That’s great! What does she know?”

“A lot,” was Killian’s reply. “She invited us to her home in Norway, thinking it was best to talk face to face.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“It’s peculiar,” Killian agreed. “But it faces us with a decision to make, Swan; journey to Denmark to find the spyglass or further north to visit Elsa?”

Emma thought of it for a moment. Mary Margaret’s text from before popped into mind; she had written that the latest record of Liam was a ticket for a ferry from Denmark to Norway... well, at least they had the right countries in mind.

“Elsa,” Emma decided. “I want to know what this is about, and anyways, it’s easier with an actual address instead of just ‘Denmark’ and ‘mermaid statue’.”

“Point taken,” Killian nodded. But Emma could still sense something bothering him.

“Did she say anything else than just ‘come to Norway, we need to talk’? Like, say how she knows about Liam? And knows your phone number for that matter?”

“She was quite brisk. I have no clue how she got a hold of my phone number, though now I won’t be able to stop wondering, so thank you for that, Swan,” Killian paused. “But she did say she’d known him for the past six years. As in he’s been in Norway for the past six years.”

“That fits!” At Killian’s questioning stare, Emma explained her sudden epiphany. “Mary Margaret wrote that the latest record they had of Liam is from six years ago - when he took the ferry from Denmark to Norway. If he’s been in Norway since then, that’s why there aren’t any more traces of him! Also,” Emma remembered as she spoke, “aren’t the latest letters you have from Liam from Norway? I mean, it all fits!”

“Aye, I suppose you’re right.”

Emma almost felt like getting another drink - to celebrate of course. It all pointed to Liam being in Norway. Maybe that’s why Elsa asked them to come without further explanation. Perhaps Liam was too shy to come forth himself?

Emma grinned, thinking that by this time tomorrow, she might finally have the signature she needed to go back home.

And Killian would have his brother back.

“I should probably call Regina and give her an update on the next travel plans.”

Across from her, Killian still seemed to be contemplating something. “But what about the spyglass? And the pegasus sail,” he added belatedly, confirming Emma’s suspicion that the pegasus sail was a load of bullshit.

“What about them?” Emma asked.

“Was our plan not to find them?”

“I thought our plan was to find Liam,” Emma countered.

“Aye, but weren’t we going to do that _through_ the objects?”

Emma just stared at him for a moment, unable to understand his fixation with those objects. “Don’t you think talking to a living person who’s known about Liam’s whereabouts for the past six years will be a bit more helpful than a couple of thingies?”

Killian had no good answer for that.

“If Elsa turns out to be a dead-end, Denmark will be our back-up plan and we can continue this treasure-hunt-thing,” Emma offered.

He nodded, slowly raising his eyes from the table to meet hers. The spark she had grown so used to seeing was back. “So, Norway...?”

Emma groaned. “That _definitely_ sounds cold.”

* * *

Killian tried bullying Emma into buying a proper winter coat. And warmer boots as well.

( _“It’s not bullying when it’s for your own good, Swan.”_

_“Oh yes, every tyrant’s favourite motto.”_

_“Then I must be a terrible tyrant for wanting to keep you from freezing to death.”_ )

She gave into buying a grey beanie and a warm sweater. But a new coat and a pair of boots sounded like an overkill. They weren’t going to be in Norway for long after all, and heating _did_ exist up north, right? It wasn’t like they were going to live in an igloo.

Her head hurt ever so slightly the morning after their trip to the bar, but she didn’t let it show. She was a bit more snappy than usual when Ingrid called, though that could have had a lot more to do with Ingrid persisting that Walsh was the right guy for her. No matter how many times Emma said she just wasn’t feeling it anymore.

They spent most of the day just walking through the city, taking things slow. At one point Emma thought she saw two people she’d seen earlier as well - a woman with wavy red hair and a guy with a red-woollen hat - but then they were gone. She blamed the headache.

At some time around six in the evening, their plane took off, giving Emma the chance to lean back and relax for a few hours. And tease Killian for his dislike of flying. He was quieter than usual, not rising to tease Emma back as much as she would’ve liked. Odd as it was, Emma found herself missing it. The casual back-and-forth, the easy conversation they had had last night... even the occasional flirting.

But Killian didn’t seem in the mood for it, and Emma was rather terrified of how much that affected her.

* * *

“You know, if you stare any harder at that chair you’re gonna drill a hole through it.” Her voice was soft and teasing, breaking Killian from his spell. Liam would probably have called it _brooding_ , and it amazed Killian that after nine years, he could still hear his brother’s reprimanding in his head.

Killian shifted in his seat, trying to look more relaxed. Swan had let him get the aisle seat this time, leaving her to sit in the middle. He knew she knew he wasn’t acting entirely like himself, but he hoped she chalked it up to his dislike of flying.

“Is everything alright?” Emma asked, and he was forced to meet her gaze, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Aye, everything’s fine, love.”

The look she gave him clearly stated that she didn’t believe him, but that he could tell her once they’d landed and were alone. He had no doubts she’d pester him until she was satisfied with his answer. A trait he admired in her... but he truly wished she weren’t so good at spotting his lies.

For now, she let the matter rest and he returned to staring at the back of the chair in front of him.

What the bloody hell had he gotten himself into?

Killian had been in many dire situations for the past decade. Had reached the bottom and somehow managed to dig his way even deeper. But he’d also had a few breaths of good air and good times - of actual hope. Now it just seemed that all his life had been a race, leading up to this very point and he’d been too wrapped up in his own head to notice that everything was closing in on him.

From the moment he had learned who Swan was, he knew she brought risks with her. Risks he had been willing to take. Up until now at least.

He looked to the side without turning his head, sensing that Emma was deep in her own thoughts. How had this woman managed to turn everything upside down in only a few days? First keeping him afraid that she already knew the truth - or some of it at least - to fearing that she’d somehow figure it out. And now his greatest worry was what she’d do when he finally told her. Told her everything.

He just had to find the right timing. With both of them a bit tipsy, it hadn’t seemed right to tell her last night. He should’ve told her that morning or during the afternoon, but things had seemed so easy between them for once, he didn’t want to ruin it. The plane was hardly the right place, and once they’d made it to Arendal where Elsa lived, they’d both be too tired...

He was the captain of making excuses, he knew that.

But he would have to tell her soon. Soon as in before they met with Elsa, or he would lose his chance to tell Emma on his own.

* * *

They landed in Kristiansand around nine in the evening. Dinner had been served during the flight, so Emma and Killian could focus on finding their way out to Arendal. Fortunately, it wasn’t far away. There were buses, and they could walk from the end terminal to the inn. It wasn’t the shortest of distances, but if they took a taxi at the office’s expense Regina was surely going to have Emma’s head once she returned to New York.

Emma’s boss had already made it pretty clear that if Elsa had no useful information that was worth the trip to Norway, Emma’s journey was over. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. Of course she’d be disappointed if she didn’t get to finish the job. They seemed so close to finding Liam now, it would suck big time if they never actually found him. And deep down, Emma could let herself admit that she’d actually enjoyed working this case, frustrating as it was. She enjoyed being ‘out in the field’ or whatever. Not just behind some desk, working cases for various upscale or downscale businesses. To be honest, her job as it was wasn’t really what she’d planned for when she studied law. But working for Regina gave a sense of security. For a time it felt like she’d had it all together - a well-paid job, an apartment, a boyfriend…

Maybe it was time for her to figure out what she _actually_ wanted.

At least this mysterious Elsa seemed promising for the case. Emma didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she was definitely impatient to meet the woman. She wouldn’t have minded doing so at ten o’clock when they reached the inn, but Killian had insisted they get some sleep first and meet her in the morning. Other than that, he hadn’t said much during their travel from Barcelona to Arendal.

Emma had let him dodge her questions on the plane. They were surrounded by strangers; maybe he didn’t want to talk with so many ears around. She’d given him the same excuse on the bus. But sooner or later he would have to pull himself together and tell her whatever it was he was keeping from her, or she’d have to force it out of him.

In the end, it worried Emma to see him so silent. So... broody. She found herself wanting to know what was going on his head for reasons other than curiosity and distrust. The thought made Emma shake her head at herself; Killian had been untrustworthy from the start. He’d always been keeping things from her and for some reason she had let him. But now she was actually worried about him?

_It’s probably for the best that this case ends soon and I can go back home and never have to think about him again_.

By the time they reached their inn and each had keys to their respective rooms, Emma had had enough.

“What’s going on with you?”

Killian looked up from placing the key in the door lock to his room. Emma’s room was two doors further down on the other side of the hall, but she stopped next to Killian, intent on answers.

“What do you mean, love?”

From the tired tone in his voice and the lack of conviction, Emma could tell he knew exactly what she meant.

“You’ve been brooding all day and barely said a word.”

A cocky grin spread on his lips, hiding his weariness. “I _knew_ you cared for our verbal sparring as much as I, love. Worry not; I can make it up to you in any way you please.”

 “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Emma said, ignoring his comment.

“Is it just me, or have we had this conversation before?”

“We wouldn’t ever have to have it if you just told the truth for once.”

The humorous spark in Killian's face faded away, the initial exhaustion returning. "It's been a long day, Swan. Could we continue this discussion in the morning after I've had a chance to sleep?"

"What, so you have the time to make up some new lie?" Emma glared at him. Truthfully, she was pretty tired herself, the grogginess clearly showing.

Killian didn't answer straight away. Normally, that would have been answer enough for Emma, but there was something else going on here. Something in the way Killian's shoulders had dropped and the usual teasing spark had disappeared gave her pause.

"I need but a few hours of rest, Swan. And I reckon you do as well." He turned to unlock and open his door. He gave Emma a nod before going in, bidding her goodnight.

Emma didn't return the sentiment. She glared at the closing door, thinking about pushing her way in to his room, demanding real answers. But the door clicked shut and Emma hadn't moved an inch.

She couldn't explain why it unsettled her so much that he'd just evade the question and walk away. It just felt wrong. Killian didn't strike her as the guy to walk away from any kind of fight or confrontation. He wasn't the type who turned away and shut the door behind him.

_Who are you kidding, Emma? Everyone's gonna turn away and shut the door behind them at some point._

After all, Killian was the same guy who had snuck out in the middle of the night to explore a cave in search of something he'd never bothered to tell Emma about had she not caught him red-handed.

She stood in the hall for a few seconds, glaring at the closed door before she turned around and found her own room.

He'd _better_ have answers for her in the morning.

Emma sighed, placing her suitcase by the bed before pulling off her beanie and jacket and falling onto said bed. As much as she wanted to be angry with Killian, she understood him. He was definitely right about her needing some rest. And she knew the need to avoid certain questions, thoughts and feelings all too well, having shut some doors behind herself too.

Emma sat up to pull off her boots, wondering what would happen in the morning. What would Killian have to say for himself, what would this Elsa have to tell them?

And then it finally dawned on Emma; they were meeting Elsa tomorrow; a woman who knew about Liam - had known about him for the past six years. Who knew what she had to say about him? Hell, Killian's brooding all day had probably been focused on that very question.

If Emma knew that in less than a day she might find out what had happened to her parents, she probably wouldn't have been in the most conversing mood either.

Before Emma got the chance to think more about this newfound understanding of Killian, her phone rang from her jacket. She was grateful for Mary Margaret being the one on the other end, rather her than her mother. Or Regina.

Mary Margaret's reason for calling was less pleasant than she could have hoped for though.

"So, Ruby and I are out for a late bite of lunch at that cute café near her work, you know? The one with the amazing red velvet cake."

"Yeah?" Emma answered, wondering why her friend was calling to update her on a late lunch.

"Well..." Mary Margaret hesitated. "We kind of ran into Wash."

"And?”

"Well, _we_ saw _him_ at least, but I don't think he saw us. He was kinda busy... kissing some other woman."

"Oh." In that moment, 'oh' was the only word Emma could think of saying. Her brain took a while to understand the meaning of Mary Margaret's words. But even when it sunk in - _Walsh was kissing another woman_ \- Emma still had no other words than 'oh'. It didn't really hurt. It didn't really feel like anything at all.

"I'm so sorry, Emma, I really hate having to tell you this over the phone, but I just thought you needed to know as soon as possible, and like, I don't really know what's going on with you two lately, maybe you've broken up or something, but I just really thought you needed to know. Also because Ruby's offering to punch him for you and she'll only not do it if you tell her not to do it-" Mary Margaret's rambling was cut off by Ruby taking the phone.

"I'm serious, Ems. You want me to punch him, just say the word. I can give him a kick to the nuts if you want, too."

A slight smile ticked on Emma's lips at Ruby's words. "No, it's fine, Ruby. I'm not sure he's worth the hassle."

"So you're fine with it?" Mary Margaret asked, confused. Emma could just imagine her two best friends fighting to get the best hold on the phone.

"Yeah, I mean, I sort of broke up with him a few days ago. Or well, not explicitly. It was on the phone, and I said I just needed a break until I come back to New York."

"And that makes it okay for him to kiss someone else? Who is he, Ross Geller?" Ruby sneered, referring to _Friends_.

"Well, my plan was actually to break up with him once I get back, unlike Rachel. I guess he just decided to make things easier for the both of us." The truth of her own words surprised Emma. Walsh kissing someone else didn't really hurt - it just made things easier.

"Still makes him douchebag of the year if you ask me," Ruby said.

"I won't argue with you there.”

"Oh Emma, I really wish you weren't alone in Europe - is it Norway now?" Mary Margaret asked.

"She's not alone, she has that Killian-dude," Ruby butted in.

"Yeah, it's Norway, and yeah, I'm not entirely alone. And I'll be back soon, guys."

“Hopefully not before you and Killian have a chance to create a bit of friction up there in the cold,” Ruby said, the salacious smirk clear through the phone.

“Ruby, for all you know, Killian could be a fifty-year old man with a beer belly and a terrible smell,” Emma said, trying to shut down her friend’s depraved thoughts.

“I bet you still wouldn’t mind creating some friction with him,” Ruby said. “Come on, Ems, what kind of friend would we be if we hadn’t made an extensive background check on your travel-buddy? And if he’s as hot as he was three years ago in the picture we found of him, I’m telling you: climb him like a tree.”

Emma was glad Ruby couldn’t see the faint blush in her cheeks. She would never have heard the end of it. “Aren’t you and Mulan still going out?” She tried diverting Ruby.

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m telling _you_ to climb him,” Ruby said.

“Isn’t it funny that he used to work at Mr. Gold’s company, though?” Mary Margaret asked.

_What?_ Emma’s blood ran cold. “He used to work for Gold?”

There was an awkward pause before Mary Margaret answered. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No. He didn’t. Must have slipped his mind,” Emma said, wryly.

“Oh. That’s odd.” _And suspicious_ , Emma added to Mary Margaret’s comment. She berated herself for not having done a background check on Killian herself. And her previous anger towards the truth-withholding bastard resurfaced.

“Sounds like a heated discussion’s coming your way,” Ruby remarked. “Angry sex is always great, you know.”

“Ruby!” Mary Margaret chided. Emma could faintly hear her one friend slapping the other’s arm.

“You guys, thanks for calling me, seriously. But my head’s kinda hurting, and I’m really exhausted.”

“Of course, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, fully understanding. “If you need us, we’re only a phone call away. And we can still punch Walsh for you if you want.”

“Yeah, just say the word, Ems. And please take a video of it if you punch Killian too - or whatever you end up doing.”

“I’m going to spare you for more of Ruby’s terrible humour now. Sleep well, Emma!”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Emma ended the call, slumping against the headboard of the bed. Somehow, she felt more exhausted than before, even with her blood boiling beneath her skin.

It might not hurt, knowing Walsh had moved on before they’d even properly ended the relationship, but it still stung. How could he propose to her, beg for her to come back to New York and then kiss someone else in less than two weeks? What the hell was he thinking? What had _she_ been thinking, dating the guy for eight months? She could only be happy she hadn’t said yes to his proposal without seeing his true colours first.

And then there was Killian. Why hadn’t he told her that he had once worked for the guy currently trying to buy his family’s business? Didn’t that seem like a relevant fact to him?

She pulled her boots back on, grabbed her room key and stormed out of the door to ask Killian that very question.

Her fist raised to knock on his door, Emma found herself hesitating though. She was angry as hell - at Killian and at Walsh - but she couldn’t bring herself to knock.

She went back to her room and grabbed her jacket.

Emma wasn’t in the mood to yell at Jones. She wasn’t in the mood to talk.

She was in the mood for a drink, and that was exactly what she was going to get.

* * *

Killian hit his forehead against the door after closing it. He had squandered a perfectly good chance to explain everything to Swan and taken the coward's way out instead. 'Just need a bit of rest'. Killian all but scoffed at himself. He knew very well he wouldn't get much rest this night.

Pushing away from the door, Killian pulled the strap of his satchel over his head and left it on the nightstand. He took his leather coat off on his way to the bathroom, hanging it on a hook by the door. Turning on the cold faucet, Killian washed his hands and splashed some water in his face. The reflection in the mirror was a poorer sight than usual. Sure, he was a handsome fellow but that wrinkle in his brow, etched like a permanent scowl wouldn't do his looks much good in the long run.

He should just talk to Emma. Pull himself together, straighten his back, march over to her room and tell her what he should have told her days ago.

No. He said he would tell her tomorrow when the both of them had enjoyed some rest and could see things in a clearer light. No need to disturb her now.

His reflection wasn't convinced.

Killian grabbed a towel, drying off his hands and face. He went to grab a toothbrush and some toothpaste from his satchel, intent on going to bed; even if he knew he wouldn't fall asleep any time soon. He ended up pacing the room instead, his hands ruffling through his hair and trying to massage some of the kinks out of his shoulders. His mind was a constant back and forth, much like his steps through the room. Go over to Swan's room and tell her now, or wait until morning.

More than once he made it to his door, ready to open it and march down the hall, but then Emma's face flashed through his head. Would she be angry? Would she want to stay after he told her everything or would she leave? Would she even believe him?

It could have been minutes or hours for all Killian knew. He never made it to brushing his teeth or changing his clothes. He could have checked the time, but he didn't want to give himself another excuse. No, he was going to tell Emma everything, and he was going to do it now. Whatever the consequences, whatever she ended up thinking of him, Killian could be happy knowing he had done the right thing.

Determined at last, Killian left his room, made it to Emma's in quick strides and knocked on her door.

She didn't answer.

"Swan?"

Killian knocked again. "Swan, are you in there? I, uh, I've had a change of heart about the ‘sleep first, talk later’."

Still, Emma didn't answer. He listened for any signs of her even being there, but he heard nothing.

Realization dawned on Killian, his raised fist slowly falling to his side.

Emma was gone.

* * *

Her glass was empty after a few seconds, and then slammed on the bar top. It felt good, but not entirely as satisfying as Emma had hoped. At least it took off the edge.

“Rough day?” the blond bartender asked. From the smile in his eyes, Emma guessed she was far from the first woman he had seen down a drink in one go. Even if she was the first American he had ever seen in his bar - which he gladly told her about when she ordered her drink.

“Rough week,” Emma answered. She asked for another glass, planning on drinking this one a bit slower. The bartender supplied and didn’t comment on Emma’s answer or ask further questions. Just the way Emma wanted it.

A minute later, a sparky redhead joined the bartender behind the counter, saying something to him in Norwegian. She kissed his cheek and he left through a back door, a huge smile on his lips. Emma grabbed her glass and drank a few more mouthfuls.

The redhead turned to Emma after dealing with another customer, her smile brighter than any Emma had seen in a long while.

“Er alt ok?”

Emma contemplated pretending she hadn’t heard and continue to stare at her glass, but she looked up anyways. “Sorry, I don’t speak Norwegian.”

Somehow, the redhead’s smile turned even brighter.

“Oh, you’re American! That’s so exciting - we don’t often get tourists here, especially not from America. What brings you here?”

Emma wished she had chosen not to look up.

“Work.” Curt and simple, that was all she could muster at the moment.

The bartender seemed to take the hint (fortunately) and simply nodded. “Well, I hope you have a pleasant stay!” She began turning to the next customer and Emma drank a sip in relief.

She was too quick to celebrate though.

“Wait, you’re not one of them here about Liam, are you?”

Emma’s eyes shot up to meet the bartender’s. “You know him? Liam Jones?”

The redhead smiled, bright and exciting as ever. “Yeah, he’s been living in my sister’s spare room for the past six years.”

“Your sister’s Elsa?”

“Yes! Oh right, I’m Anna, hi! You must be Emma then, right? Elsa said Killian mentioned an Emma - Emma Swan!”

Emma tried to smile. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, that’s me. So, uh, do you know Liam well?”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy!” But then Anna’s face fell, her hands wringing the towel she held. “I really, really hope he’s okay. It’s terrible what happened.”

Emma’s brows stitched together. “What happened? He’s not here in Norway anymore?”

Anna looked at Emma with a hint of confusion in her eyes. “No, he sailed away in that storm a month ago. Didn’t Elsa say that? I thought she called Killian when it happened...” Anna picked up on Emma’s expression that clearly said this was news to her. Especially the part about Elsa having called Killian a _month_ ago.

“I guess he never told me,” Emma said. _It seems there are a lot of things he never told me_.

“Oh.” Anna paused, looking about as awkward as Emma was beginning to feel frustrated with a certain Jones. “Well, I really hope we get some news on Liam soon, even if it’s probably too late now. But well, there’s always hope, right?” Anna tried for a smile again, but Emma could see the worry in her eyes. The redhead looked at Emma’s newly empty glass. “Would you like a refill?”

Emma shook her head. She slid off the stool, slipped her wallet out of her jacket and pulled out her credit card. “No, I’m fine, thanks. I’d better head back to my hotel before it gets too late.”

_And murder Jones the second I see him_.

How could Elsa have called him a month ago to say Liam had sailed off in a storm and clearly never come back? How could Killian have known that Liam was last seen in Norway for an entire month - if not more?

Why the hell had he never thought to tell her?

Emma’s blood was boiling once again, and this time she wasn’t going to hesitate for one second before knocking on his door. She’d kick it open if she had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda feel like this chapter should've been titled "dun, dun, DUN", haha :)) thanks for reading! Next chapter, some long overdue truths might finally come to the surface...!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so last chapter ended in a bit of a cliff-hanger, didn't it? I hope this chapter was worth the wait - I know that plenty of you have been waiting for some of the answers to come!
> 
> first though, a huge thank you to [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!! 
> 
> enjoy!

He must have fallen asleep. Aye, sleep had seemed impossible but not nearly as impossible as the loud knocking on his door and the accompanying voice hissing his surname. He was dreaming. He had to be.

Killian turned his head on the pillow, the hand covering his eyes sliding away. The knocking continued, and Swan’s voice was clear through the door. She sounded... bloody hell she sounded furious.

Killian shot up from the bed, crossing the room to open the door. The fact that he was shirtless with only a pair of dark flannel pants keeping him decent enough didn’t enter his mind.

He switched the lights on by the door, and hastily unlocked and opened it. Swan didn’t sound like she’d enjoy waiting. She was _still_ knocking, and her raised fist nearly collided with his chest. Even if it didn’t, Killian still felt like he had been knocked over.

A fire blazed in Emma’s eyes. They were widened with shock, as if she almost hadn’t expected him to answer the door or even be there at all. But her anger quickly took over, drilling a hole through Killian’s head.

In that moment, all he could think of though, was how stunning she looked. Like a furious angel. Or a vengeful siren.

He noticed the way her eyes dipped to take in his shirtless state, however brief the glance was. Only then did he even think to remember his lack of shirt. He made to say hello or comment on her late-night visit with some lewd joke or another. He didn’t know why - she already looked like she was out for his head, so teasing her was probably the stupidest idea at the moment. It was a good thing then, that Swan opened her mouth first.

“When were you planning on telling me that you’ve known about Elsa and Liam all this time? Or that Liam’s _gone_?”

Perhaps letting her speak first wasn’t the best thing ever.

Killian stared at her in shock. He had been wrong before - this wasn’t a dream. It was a bloody nightmare. Precisely the nightmare that had been tormenting him during the hours of daylight - and the hours afterward.

“How do you know that?” His voice was hoarse, sounding pathetic even to him.

“It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is that you didn’t tell me.”

Beneath Emma’s anger, Killian sensed something even worse; betrayal. Bloody fucking hell, the exact thing that was _never_ meant to happen was staring him right in the face and Killian was at a loss for words. He couldn’t even bring himself to apologize.

“So?” Emma glared at him. “Got anything to say for yourself?”

Killian’s mind wouldn’t connect with his tongue. All he could see was Emma, the stone-set lawyer putting him on trial where he had no other choice than to plead guilty.

“Swan, I can explain-”

She huffed. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m counting on, Jones. And it better be good and not some stupid lie again, because honestly? I’m damned tired of it.”

Killian could only agree.

He held the door open for her; this conversation was not one to be held in the hallway of an inn, and Emma seemed to understand. She gave him one last hard glare before pushing her way into his room.

“So what on earth could make you forget to mention that Liam sailed off in a storm a _month_ ago? Or that he’s probably _dead_?”

Her words stung. They were true, every one of them, and her anger was nothing less than he deserved. Still...

“Swan, I won’t pretend I haven’t been a lying git to you, but if you want an explanation you’re going to have to be patient, okay? It’s not as simple as it seems.”

“Does it have anything to do with you once working for Gold?”

A bucket of ice could have been poured over him and he wouldn’t have known the difference. How the bloody hell did she know that? How did she suddenly know any of this?

“What-“

Emma crossed her arms, challenging him with a glare. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, jaw ticking as he tried to find the right place to start.

“Gold’s a big part of it, aye.”

Swan waited for him to go on and he took the chance, knowing it would only be worse if he didn’t.

“I started working for him about six years ago, engineering ship replicas. It seemed the ideal opportunity back then - a chance to leave England and sober up for once. I can’t fathom how I ever even got the job, but well, it did me good. Gave me a chance to forget about Liam or the fact that Barrie had disowned me for being a rotten alcoholic just like my father,” he all but spat the words out, still disgusted with his own behaviour after all these years. “I worked for him for about three years, but then… well, my time there didn’t end on the best note.”  

Killian grimaced at the memories.

“So now you’re trying to stop him from buying your family business?” Emma asked, sounding as if she thought his explanation was the worst in the entire world.

“I’m not _that_ petty, Swan,” Killian said, the fact that she would believe that a bit hurtful. “The fate of the business is the least of my worries anyways.

“In the end, it all comes back to Liam and when he came home nine years ago.”

Emma already knew this part of the story. How he’d been rescued alone and came back a shadow of himself, babbling about Neverland and magic. “No one believed him of course. Except perhaps my uncle. But I couldn’t - I couldn’t bring myself to believe the one person who had always stood by me. And then he was gone. And I was so sure there was nothing left for me but drinks that not even Barrie threatening to disown me could change my mind.”

He couldn’t bear to look at Emma. Already she must think the worst of him, choosing alcohol over the only family he had left. She stayed silent as he had asked, and Killian pulled himself out of his self-pity to continue his story.

“But in America, I found a purpose in my life again. I… I fell in love with one of the women working in the company. Milah.” Gods, he hadn’t said her name in years now. It didn’t hurt that much anymore. Killian wondered if it would ever stop hurting entirely. Probably not.

“Milah? Wasn’t she-“

“Gold’s wife?” Killian finished for her. “I didn’t know at first. And I should’ve stopped our relationship when I found out, but well, I hadn’t the courage to do it.” He waited for her to say something more, comment on how horrible he was for getting involved with a married woman - maybe even throw a punch his way. But she stayed silent.

Killian clenched his jaw and found the right words to carry on his explanation.

* * *

If only something he said would set her lie detector off. It would make things easier. It would put an end to this irrational need she felt to reach out and touch him - comfort him - as he spoke. The loss he felt for his brother, his self-hatred for choosing alcohol over his uncle, his disgust at himself for getting involved with a married woman - it was all so painstakingly obvious. Regret had been piling on his shoulder for years and she wished he wouldn’t burden himself with so much guilt.

It terrified her.

She was furious at him; he had lied and omitted so many truths that could have helped her days ago. He’d let her travel Europe while knowing Liam had last been seen in Norway when sailing into a storm a whole month ago.

So far, his explanation did nothing but further her confusion. And her frustration. She tried to process everything he said while trying to understand what was going on inside her own head. It was a struggle to stay focused.

“A few months after discovering Milah’s marital status, I received a letter from Norway. From Liam. I hadn’t heard from him since he had disappeared and I could hardly believe my eyes.”

Killian went to find the letter in his satchel as he spoke, averting his eyes from Emma.

“He apologized for leaving,” Killian said, unfolding the letter. “But wrote that it was inevitable. No one could know where he was and no one could know about Neverland. He wrote that Barrie agreed. He seemed so sure, so _certain_ that Neverland existed. A place of magic, with unbound wealth and secrets one could never hope to imagine being true...”

His eyes lingered on the letter as he handed it over to Emma before returning to his spot by the door.

The slight tremble in her hand as it curled around the edge of the page shocked her. She couldn’t focus on the jumbled block of words, but her eyes were drawn to the last line, separated from the rest. _All is well, little brother. All is well_.

“On my 27th birthday, he sent another letter - the one that I showed you, with the picture of the four columns.” The picture that had led them to Barcelona a few days ago. “Gold called me to his office that day. I’d never met the guy before, though I’d slept with his wife, of course. I thought that was why he had called me in. Thought I was going to die actually, and be dumped in the sea, mysteriously disappeared just like my brother. It turned out my brother was the reason he wanted to talk though. He wanted to chat about my ‘family business’ and whether I’d ever heard from Liam. Wouldn’t listen when I said I’d been disowned and had never heard from my family since I’d left England.

“I just had this feeling; the bastard knew. He knew Liam had sent me a letter. And he knew something about this Neverland. Now, I’d never met Gold before, but I’d heard plenty through his wife and others. I’d sensed it during my years working there.

“Gold is an exploiter, and the worst of the sorts. He’ll deal in any business he can if there’s a profit for him and he doesn’t care about the price others will have to pay. In fact, it seems the greater the price for others, the more pleasure he takes from the deal. He knew something about Neverland and its treasures, and he sought to exploit them like any other business or person he’d come across.”

The hatred in Killian’s voice was frightening. His eyes darkened with old memories and for a moment it seemed like he’d forgotten she was even in the room.

Emma had never met Gold before - he was just a name to her. A client. But she’d dealt with more than a fair share of shitty people in her line of work. Scratch that, throughout her entire life. From foster parents that saw her as a meal ticket rather than a human being, to boyfriends who only wanted to take as much as they could, to the evident corrupt bastards that would stop at nothing to fill their pockets just a _bit_ more.

Killian’s frustration struck a chord in her. But all this talk of Neverland - of magic - had her head spinning. It didn’t make sense. A feud inspired by the ramblings of a man broken by tragedy - Liam’s instability obvious in how jumbled and messy his writing was - how could _Gold_ have a part in all this? And why did it still matter now, years later?

* * *

Talking about the bloody crocodile made Killian’s blood boil. Thinking about what had happened with Milah - how he’d let her down just as he had his brother - only made it worse. He considered if Emma even had to know about that. But he had promised himself to tell her the truth; all of it.

“When I wouldn’t tell him about _The Brothers Jones_ or open up about Neverland, he took more drastic measures. Let me know that he knew all about my affair with Milah, and that he wasn’t afraid to drag her through a long and terrible divorce, scrapping her of all dignity and fortune. All I had to do was tell him about Neverland...”

Killian told Emma of how he had refused. He had gone to Milah, begging her to run away with him. They could start their own lives together, far away from Gold.

“But she wouldn’t come with me. She didn’t understand - why couldn’t I just tell Gold what he wanted to know and be done with it? What harm could it do? Neverland - magic - all that could hardly exist after all... but I couldn’t let Liam down again. If someone as powerful as Gold believed him and his talks of Neverland, then there had to be a kernel of truth to it, right?” Killian shook his head at himself. “Milah thought I was crazy. Crazy to believe in Neverland and magic and who can blame her for that? She said we’d all be better off if I just left, and I didn’t understand...” Killian took a deep breath. “But it turned out it didn’t matter what Gold would or wouldn’t do to her. She’d been suffering from a heart disease that she’d never told me about and... I left the company the day she died. Left America and never looked back. As far as I know, Gold never even batted an eyelash at her death.”

The room was silent as Killian stopped talking. He wasn’t done explaining yet - it felt like he’d never finish explaining - but his mouth was dry and his head hurt and Emma _still_ hadn’t said a word.

“Elsa called me a month ago for the first time. Said Liam had been staying with her for the past six years, his health unstable, and that he’d sailed off in a storm, saying he had to get back to Neverland, but hadn’t returned. I wanted to go after him, but Barrie refused to help me. He was confident Liam would return, and said the tools to get to Neverland had been hidden anyways - I would never get to him.

“But then Barrie died, and Liam still hadn’t returned and - and I need to find him, Swan.” Killian looked up at her for the first time since he’d handed her Liam’s letter. He couldn’t quite read her face. If she believed him or not. “My plan was to find the objects and go after Liam - I never thought Gold would show up again, trying to get his claws into Neverland once more.”

“You thought I was in league with him, didn’t you?” Emma’s voice was low but sturdy. She wasn’t accusing him, she was just trying to make sense of all the information he had thrown her way. “That’s why you lied about everything. Tried to throw me off with that pegasus sail and stuff, so I’d feed Gold false information... if I _was_ working for him.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded, his head seeming to weigh a ton on his neck. “I’m sorry, Emma. I should’ve trusted you - should’ve seen from the start that you could never be in league with a monster such as Gold.”

He wasn’t sure if he should say more. He still felt like so much of his explanation was missing, but at least Emma hadn’t stormed out or bitten his head off. Yet.

“But seriously?” she started, not so much disbelief as frustration clouding her eyes. “Neverland? Magic? You _seriously_ believe all that? That these... _things_ are going to lead you to Liam?”

Her words bore too much resemblance to those Milah had hissed at him three years ago. And once again, he couldn’t blame her. Magic was difficult to believe in, but Killian didn’t doubt his brother. Not anymore.

“I know it sounds insane-”

“Damn right, it does! I mean, how did _Gold_ even end up believing all this?”

The question had irked Killian as well. He’d found the answer a year ago though, upon running into an old friend. _Somewhat_ -friend at least.

“He’d heard a few too many stories, some through an old acquaintance of Liam’s and mine; William Smee. He was there when Liam sailed off - there when he came home again. He knew the legends of Neverland, almost as well as I did from bedtime stories as a child. The supposed grand wealth of the land - the magical herbs, both healing and poisonous. And Smee was more than willing to fill Gold in on everything for a bit of coin, though all he really knew about was the compass. Not the sextant or the spyglass needed to get there as well. Which is why I was, well, reluctant to let you in on all that...” Killian explained, hinting at an apology in his tone of voice.

Emma shook her head, still refusing to believe it. “You’re all insane,” she muttered. “They’re _bedtime stories -_ you said it yourself for fuck’s sake! Are you seriously planning to go to Denmark and find that spyglass and sail off to some non-existent place for no damned reason?”

“I _have_ a reason; to find Liam. I know it doesn’t sound ideal, Emma, but I believe my brother and my uncle. Neverland _is_ real.”

The look in Emma’s eyes was almost pitiful. “Just because you believe something, doesn’t make it real.”

“Do you believe _me_?”

Killian all but held his breath, waiting for Emma’s answer. He kept their eyes locked, trying to discern her thoughts. His heart was practically beating in his ears, begging her to say _yes_.

“I’m going back to New York.”

Her voice was low and resigned, devoid of any emotion. Killian sought to find them in her eyes but they flickered away from his and towards the door. Her anger had wrecked him before - impossibly, this was even worse.

“Swan, I know I haven’t been trustworthy all the time, but I never meant to hurt you. And you must admit, we make quite the team. We can find Liam, together. You’ll be able to end the case, go back home with a clear conscious over a finished job...”

He wasn’t getting through to her. Emma made her way towards the door, and Killian couldn’t explain _why_ it meant so much to him that she stay, that she believe him. It just did. “Perhaps we should both try something new, Swan; it’s called trust.”

“I can’t...” Killian dared hope there was regret in the way she regarded him. But it was clear she had made her decision as she shook her head. “I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.” She opened the door, turning to look at him one last time. “I’m sorry.”

And like that, Emma Swan closed the door behind her.

Killian shook his head at himself. He shouldn’t have been so foolishly hopeful to think it could have ended any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately, Killian, this isn't the end yet :))
> 
> This chapter was possibly the hardest one to write, because of all the explanations finally coming to the surface along with a whole lot of angst. In the beginning, I wasn't actually sure how Milah was going to play a part in all of this - if she was going to play a part at all! And then I came up with some rather gruesome backstories that just seemed a bit too dark for the overall feeling of the fic... yeah, it's always fun looking back at what this story started out as, haha :)
> 
> anyways, I know this chapter was a bit shorter and once again, a bit of a cliff-hanger, but thank you for sticking with me! I look forward to next week's chapter and I hope you do too! thanks for reading, no matter what! :)))


	11. Chapter 11

Emma barely slept. Scratch that, she didn’t sleep at all. Not knowing Killian was so close, not with her head spinning as it was. But she had made the right decision; going home was the right thing to do. At least that’s what she kept telling herself as she lay awake throughout the night and as she left in the morning with the first bus towards the airport. She didn’t bother to call Regina or Mary Margaret or anyone. She was just _done_ with talking for the moment.

The sun rose while Emma leaned against the window of the bus, staring out at the passing landscape. She might as well enjoy the view while she could. The mountains, the endless rows of pine trees. There was no snow yet, not this far south in Norway. She almost felt sad for not getting to see the small villages and vast forests decked in a blanket of white. But New York was beautiful too with its skyscrapers and never-ending activity.

Yes, coming back home was going to be wonderful. No more uncertainty about a hopeless case. No more internal battles on whether to trust her ‘partner’ or not. No more crazy talks of Neverland and magic.

No more stupidly blue eyes and too-handsome-for-anyone’s-good faces.

She could sleep in her own bed again and throw herself into new cases. Sit back on her couch and enjoy a glass of wine with some Netflix. Emma had all kinds of things to look forward to back at home.

Yet telling herself she’d made the right decision became harder and harder the closer she got to the airport.

Emma ran her finger over the cut on her palm which Killian had tended to that night in the cave. She never did return his scarf.

When the bus finally came to a stop, Emma felt weird stepping out alone. Dragging her suitcase without listening to cheeky comments that she could ignore or counter left Emma feeling bitter.

Where would the cheeky bastard be now anyway? Probably on his way to Denmark to look for that stupid spyglass. Emma shook her head, telling herself she was glad not to be with him on such a fool’s errand. She wondered how long it would take before he gave up on finding his brother, ignoring the part of her that was angry at herself for giving up first.

Emma tightened her grip on her suitcase. She had to stop her thoughts from spiralling. The case was done. Liam was most likely dead, Killian would learn to deal with it, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t her problem. She needed to get back to her real life, to New York, to new cases that actually made sense. Not some crazy feud over Neverland.

Besides, if it really mattered so much to Killian that she stayed, he wouldn’t have let her leave so easily.

The airport in Kristiansand was rather tiny. In the early morning there wasn’t much of a crowd, only a few people in line for check-in. Emma had bought the cheapest ticket from Kristiansand to Oslo to New York on her phone and could look forward to being back home in about thirteen hours. Hopefully, the airport in Oslo was interesting enough to spend three hours in while waiting.

Emma knelt on the floor, looking for her passport in the front pocket of her suitcase when something caught her eye.

Some _one_.

A dash of bright red in the corner of her sight made Emma look up. And she could’ve sworn she’d seen it before. A red woollen hat. A red woollen hat on an also familiar, short, round man with a beard. She’d seen him in Barcelona, she was sure of it. And maybe sometime before that too?

That unnerving prickle at the back of her neck returned.

This guy was following her.

Emma tried not to stare at him for too long in case he realized that she’d noticed him. She pretended to change her mind about standing in line for check-in, slipping her passport back in its pocket. Proving that the red-hatted guy was following her was the only thing that mattered now.

She walked down a narrow hall to her right. She wasn’t sure where to it led but she didn’t intend to find out. Once she’d rounded the corner, out of everyone’s sight - including the red-hatted guy’s - she stopped and pressed her suitcase and herself against the wall.

She waited silently, her heart beating just a bit faster. Emma was a lawyer, not some secret agent, but she’d been in this kind of situation before. If only she could confront the guy somewhere a bit more private.

Emma considered the door a few feet to her left. It was probably locked, but she checked anyways, hoping to find some small storage room or something.

For once, she was lucky enough to get what she wanted.

A few minutes more passed in silence. No one followed her down the hall. Emma was beginning to feel restless, all this pent-up frustration and adrenaline with no one to take it out on. Yet.

About two minutes later, her target rounded the corner. To say he was surprised when Emma grabbed him by his jacket and shoved him inside the unlocked storage room was an understatement. A mop was knocked over as Emma shoved him against the wall. The door shut and lights flickered on and Emma hoped to god that no one had heard his yelp.

“Who the hell are you?”

Emma held her arm at his throat while pinning him against the wall. Sure, he was bigger than her but Emma _had_ been in this kind of situation before. She knew how to stand her ground. Knew how to throw a punch if she needed to, too. Foster kids were always easy targets in the schoolyard after all, but Emma had made sure she wasn’t one of them. And she couldn’t deny, letting out her frustrations on a punching bag from time to time was pretty satisfactory.

Besides, this guy was hardly struggling. He all but accepted her arm pressing against his throat.

He didn’t answer her question, so she asked a bit more forcefully. “You’ve been following me and I want to know the hell why.”

“I... Smee. My name’s William Smee and I swear I haven’t been following you,” he stuttered.

Emma’s blood ran cold. She’d heard that name before.

“You’re the guy who told Gold about Neverland,” she said, strengthening her hold on him.

Smee lowered his head. “Yes, yes, okay? I told Gold about Neverland, and I _may_ have been following you, but I swear, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks?” Emma repeated, unable to believe the nerve this guy had to say that. “You’ve been following us since - I don’t know - England?”

“Yes, well-”

“How the hell is following someone across countries not as bad as it looks?”

“Hey, there’s been no harm done, has there?”

Emma scoffed. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that and tell me why the hell you’ve been following me.”

Smee squirmed, not wanting to answer. But it suddenly seemed pretty clear to Emma. Gold had paid Smee for information about Neverland. He had tried threatening Killian - by threatening his own wife - into telling him about Neverland. She would _never_ be able to understand how a successful millionaire could believe in fairy tales, but if the guy was crazy enough to threaten his wife...

“Gold put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Smee’s silence was answer enough.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” she muttered. Her momentary lack of questions and accusations gave Smee the idea that maybe it was his turn to ask something.

“I just don’t understand; why aren’t you and Mr. Jones going to Denmark _together_?”

_What?_

“I’m not going to Denmark.” She stared at Smee, confused and frustrated. “But how do you even know to guess that’s where we’d be going? Exactly how closely have you been spying on us?”

Smee began stammering out an answer again, some awful cover-up.

Emma remembered the first time she’d felt the prickling at the back of her neck. It was in her hotel room in Barcelona - she couldn’t exactly place her finger on it then, but it felt like someone had been in her room. Knowing now that that could very well have been true, made her feel sick.

She glared at Smee and it didn’t take much more for him to break.

“I’m sorry, okay? I never meant to get so involved. I just wanted to earn a bit of coin, I never knew Mr. Gold would end up taking it this far. The- the picture of the mermaid was a false clue. It wasn’t my idea though, it was hers. All of the ideas have been hers or Mr. Gold’s, I’ve just been doing what I’ve been told, I swear.”

The arm pressed against his throat slackened a bit as his words sunk in. The drawing was a fake. They must have broken into her room, found Liam’s drawings and discovered the Santa Maria del Mar before them, planting a fake clue for them to find. Killian was going to go to Denmark on the grounds of a lie... But something else bothered her as well.

“ _Her_?” she repeated.

“Aye, uh, Miss Zelena West.” The name meant nothing to Emma. But from the look in Smee’s eyes, she guessed Zelena wasn’t the most pleasant of people. “She’s keeping an eye on Mr. Jones right now - ordered me to follow you in the meantime.”

Emma couldn’t believe it. How could all these people be so crazy to believe that Neverland existed and some old objects would help them get there? Obsessed enough to threaten and follow people, create false trails and-

“Wait. If the drawing was fake, what was really behind that brick in Barcelona?”

“Uh,” Smee hesitated again. Emma caught the way his eyes flickered towards his satchel. She hoped for his sake he would never end up in a real interrogation, because he really sucked at this.

“Listen, I can tell you don’t want to be a part of this,” Emma said, “so why don’t you give me what you found, stop following me and disappear for a little while. If you’re afraid of Gold or this Zelena you can contact my firm and see if they’ll help you.”

Smee seemed to consider her offer very carefully. To be honest, she was proud of herself for handling it so rationally when the frustration inside her rather longed to knock him over the head with the fire extinguisher in the corner, take his satchel and get the hell out of there.

“They’ll find me anyways,” he finally answered, shaking his head.

Emma sighed. As much as that fire extinguisher called to her, she knew blunt strikes to the head were a lot more damaging than the movies let on. She’d rather not end up committing a murder because of this damned case.

“Then why don’t you just show me what you found, and we’ll each go our separate ways and no one will have to know.”

That idea got through to him at least. Emma slackened her grip, enough to let him open his satchel while she kept a wary eye on him.

“We found the spyglass,” he said, pulling out the object. A part of Emma ridiculed her for being so excited to see the spyglass. She wasn’t supposed to care about any of this; it was all a load of bullshit _. Why don’t you just go home anyway?_

She ignored that part of her though, grabbing the spyglass from Smee’s hand and taking a closer look at it.

_I’m sorry, buddy..._

Emma pulled back and swung her fist at Smee’s face, tripping him over with her legs. It was a rash decision - probably one that would get her fired - but with the adrenaline pumping through her, she really didn’t care. This was the best way to do it anyways. Her knuckles hurt and his face most likely did too, but there would be no lasting damage.

As he yelped and scuffled on the floor, Emma pulled the door open with the spyglass tucked under her arm. She clicked the mechanism in place which would ensure the door would lock behind her when she left. Her head buzzed with excitement, every nerve telling her how terrible this decision was. But she did it anyway.

The door closed behind her before Smee could get out. He pounded on the surface, crying out, but the sounds were only faint. Emma couldn’t help but smile. Her luck had stretched far enough for a somewhat soundproof door.

Someone would find him sooner or later, but in the meantime, Emma grabbed her suitcase (thankful no one had walked by and noticed it) and walked away with the spyglass in her other hand.

She wouldn’t be going home after all. She had a certain Jones to find first.

_Two_ Joneses actually.

* * *

Emma’s new-found determination lasted for about five minutes. Stepping out of the airport marked the end of her confident spree. She couldn’t be sure if Killian was in Arendal anymore. She couldn’t be sure if Smee hadn’t contacted Zelena - _damn_ , she should have taken his phone - and for all she knew Killian could be knocked out and lying in his own little storage room. Of course, she’d never thought to get his phone number...

So Emma went from feeling pumped and proud about making a decision that would probably get her fired, to sitting on a bench near the airport, searching hopelessly for a way to find Killian’s phone number.

In the end, Anna was her salvation. She couldn’t remember the name of the bar, only that it was something with Sven. ( _Reinsdyret Sven_ was the name - apparently, they’d named their bar after a reindeer). A phone number on their site led to an awkward conversation with Anna, who was actually surprisingly understanding of Emma’s situation. That phone call led to an even more awkward conversation with Elsa, who was a bit more sceptical. Not that Emma could blame her.

Though hesitant at first, Elsa gave Emma the details she asked for. Such as the fact that Killian had just left for the airport after eating breakfast at her place. And his phone number.

Emma wouldn’t have minded talking to Elsa a bit more. Maybe asked what _she_ thought of the whole Neverland-business, what with her sounding like a normal, sane person. Emma could use the perspective of another sane person.

If she told Mary Margaret what was really going on, the woman would either hug her for taking a chance on someone or slap her to try and wake her up from whatever madness she had spiralled into.

She couldn’t decide which was worse.

But after having thanked Elsa for her help, it seemed weird to stick around and ask further questions.

Finally, she was left with the chance to call Killian and tell him she had changed her mind. Oh, and that she’d found the spyglass.

_What the hell am I doing?_ She could be finding her seat on the plane soon, on her way back home. But no, she was on a bench near the airport, trying to get herself to call Jones and hoping like hell Smee hadn’t gotten out yet and that neither he nor Zelena would find her sitting there.

Before she could chicken out, Emma dialled the number Elsa had given her. A moment passed in silence, no beeping indicating the call had gone through. Emma checked if she _had_ pressed call. Which she had. As soon as she held her phone to her ear again, it went straight to voicemail though.

Emma frowned. Was he ditching her call? That wouldn’t make sense though - how would he know she was the one calling?

She tried again, and once more the call went straight to voicemail and she hung up. Maybe his phone was dead.

Emma all but growled in frustration. Of course his stupid flip phone would be dead right when she needed to call him and tell him-

She paused at that. What exactly was she going to tell him? Of course, the gist of it would be her admitting to believing him to some extent, and that she was willing to travel with him to “Neverland”. But how could she say that without his ego inflating to the size of Manhattan?

And how was she going to say it when his phone was dead _?_

The answer to that question was simple enough though. The bus route from Arendal to the airport included a change at a station about twenty minutes from the airport. She’d just have to catch him there and tell him everything face-to-face. Which didn’t sound awkward at all.

* * *

A coffee-to-go in hand, Emma waited at the bus station for about fifteen minutes before the bus from Arendal rolled in. Her leg bounced as she sat on a bench and _dammit_ , she couldn’t deny she was nervous. But why should she be nervous? It was just Jones. Insufferable, cocky Killian Jones. There was no reason to be nervous about this.

But when the door opened and people started stepping out of the bus, Emma’s stomach coiled. She stood up, waiting to see that familiar face stepping out.

Why was she so nervous?

Granted, last she’d seen him she had turned her back on him after he had told her some pretty personal stuff - but she hadn’t been wrong to do so. She didn’t _owe_ him anything. And he didn’t owe _her_ anything. If he wanted, he could take the spyglass and leave her to go to New York: which should have sounded like the ideal option for Emma as well, but it just _didn’t_.

None of the people spilling out of the bus were Killian. Not yet at least. As one stranger after another stepped out, Emma realized something almost even more frightening. She wasn’t just nervous. She was _excited_. Excited at the idea of seeing him grin at her when he found out she hadn’t left, and she’d know that she had made the right choice... But what if he didn’t grin at her?

Emma realized she was biting her lip and mentally berated herself, straightened her posture and looked up-

And that’s when Killian walked out. For a second, some traitorous part of her imagined kissing that stupidly handsome face like in some cliché movie, and that’s when Emma knew she had made a _huge_ mistake.

“Swan?”

Of course, he noticed her right then. He seemed to have trouble with believing his own eyes, and Emma took some small pride in that at least.

“Hi.”

They just stood there for a moment, several paces between them. Him with his surprised look, scratching that spot behind his ear; her with her coffee-cup in one hand and suitcase by her side, trying to forget the unbidden image that had flashed through her head.

“I thought you’d left for New York.”

“Yeah... I guess I changed my mind.”

“So you’re... _not_ going to New York?”

“No. Well, I am at some point, but not today.”

A small grin started to spread on his face. Something genuine, something Emma hadn’t seen on his face before (or refused to notice before), and she couldn’t account for the things it was doing to her stomach. Before he could open his mouth and say something that - who knows - might turn her legs to jelly or something equally embarrassing, she rushed to explain herself.

“I’m not saying I don’t think all this Neverland-talk is crazy, because it is, but well... I guess that doesn’t mean it can’t be true.” Okay, she _had_ to say something to make that grin go away. “I’m still pissed at you for not being honest with me from the beginning though, and don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

“I wouldn’t dare, Swan.” Dammit, the grin only became cockier. Only for a second though, and then it turned back to that shy, hesitant smile and Emma couldn’t tell which was worst. “But you truly believe me now?”

(The shy one. Definitely the shy one.)

“Yeah.”

Neither said anything, as if both of them needed a moment to realize what she’d just admitted.

She didn’t need to say much more. Didn’t need to explain that though it hurt, she understood why he hadn’t told her everything from the beginning. And though she found everything pretty insane, she was willing to go through with the case.

And Emma didn’t need Killian to say anything to know that he understood.

He gave a small nod in gratitude. “I hope I’m not too presumptuous in thinking you’ll be joining me on a trip to Denmark then?”

It was Emma’s turn to smile now.

“Actually...” she drew it out, looking at her suitcase wherein she’d stashed the spyglass. “I don’t think we’ll need to go that far.”

Killian followed her line of sight towards her suitcase. He cocked his head in question and Emma could almost hear his ‘what are you on about, Swan?’ in her head.

“I ran into someone at the airport about an hour ago.” Killian’s eyes darkened and Emma guessed he’d jumped to the worst conclusion with _Gold_ being the one she’d run into. “William Smee.”

“Smee?”

“Yeah. Looks like you were wrong about me being Gold’s spy but right about him _having_ spies. Apparently Smee’s been following us since England along with some woman named Zelena West.”

“Bloody hell.”

Emma shot him a look of agreement. “Smee said Zelena was keeping an eye on you while he followed me to the airport, and I’m not sure where _she_ is now, but last I saw Smee I’d punched him and locked him in a storage closet at the airport.”

Killian broke into a chuckle, eyes swimming with someone akin to pride. “I knew there was a little pirate in you, Swan.”

Why did that sound like one of the best compliments she’d ever gotten?

“I guess I’m only proving that by saying I took the spyglass from him before locking him in.”

“Smee had the spyglass?”

“ _Had_ being the keyword. Apparently, he and Zelena found out about the Santa Maria del Mar painting before us and after breaking into my room and finding Liam’s drawings, they discovered the church first too. And the spyglass. The drawing you found was a diversion. Doesn’t matter now though, because I’ve got the spyglass.” Emma nodded towards her suitcase again.

The pride in Killian’s eyes turned to honest wonder. “You’re a bloody marvel, Swan.”

Okay, _that_ was the best compliment she’d ever gotten. And how she was still standing was almost a marvel in itself.

“Yeah, well...” she shrugged, a blush creeping up on her face along with a smile. Fuck she hated herself like this. “Anyways, we don’t know where Zelena is - or if she’s heard this entire conversation - so I suggest we get a move-on. Please tell me you know where to go next.”

“Well, we’ve got all three objects now, so all we have to do is set sail.”

Somehow he made it sound natural. Like they were off to some fun relaxing sail-trip and not on a hopeless journey without a real course. And hell, other than during boat tours or ferries, Emma had never actually been sailing before.

Didn’t they usually _fly_ to Neverland anyways?

“Right. Sailing. And uh, do you have a boat for that?” Emma asked.

“I’ve got a _ship_ docked in Westport harbour in Ireland - taking a few tourists on board every now and then served as my livelihood for a while, alongside my attempts at writing. Alas, Westport’s too far away. Elsa told me Liam sailed to Neverland from a harbour in the northwest of Norway; my intention was to begin our journey the same.”

“So we’re going further north?”

“Aye. It seems a warmer coat doesn’t sound so foolish now, does it, love?”

Emma glared at him. He was right though. And what the hell - she’d already spent way more than should be allowed on a simple ‘overseeing of a business transaction’, travelled to four different countries in one week, straight-up punched a guy and locked him in a storage closet in an airport, disobeyed Regina’s orders by travelling _further_ with this case and had all but started to believe in Neverland. How much harm could a new, warm coat do? She was going to get fired anyway, Emma was sure of that by now.

But the look in Killian’s eyes when he realized she wasn’t leaving him after all... and the way it just felt _right_ to not give up on this case quite yet -

Well, getting fired was about the least of Emma’s worries now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't keep them away from each other for too long :D
> 
> thanks for reading - and for all you lovely folks leaving comments, you're simply amazing!!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the final journey to Neverland!! But of course, things don't always go too smoothly.... 
> 
> Thanks for your amazing response to this story so far, it means more than I could possibly say!! And as always, thanks to my amazing beta and three talented artists! [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!

As it turned out, buying a warmer coat to brave the cold north was unnecessary - Emma borrowed one from Elsa.

Standing in Elsa’s house a few hours after having left the airport, Emma looked down at the snug brown jacket wrapped around her. Lined with soft dark fur, it was certainly warm, and Emma said as much to Elsa and Killian.

“I’m surprised you’re still capable of feeling anything at all after walking around in that thin leather jacket of yours,” Killian quipped, sitting at Elsa’s dining table with a mug of tea in his hand. Emma didn’t even bother to glare at him. He knew how much she liked her red leather jacket.

“It fits you rather well - better than it ever did me,” Elsa commented with a smile. As soon as Killian had told her they’d be heading further north to look for Liam, Elsa had remembered old winter coats and warm boots lying around and had offered to find them for Emma. An offer Emma gladly accepted.

Emma had wondered a lot about this Elsa. She’d briefly spoken to her on the phone and she had seemed a bit reserved, but she had obviously been open enough to take Liam in six years ago. When asked about it, Elsa simply shrugged and said she’d had a spare room. Still, not just anyone took in ‘stray Englishmen, half off their rockers’ as Killian put it. Emma wasn’t sure if she should be awed by Elsa or concerned for her lack of better judgement.

The longer she’d spent with the other blonde though, in her quaint reclusive home, the more Emma came to like her.

“I’m sure I could find some of Liam’s winter wear for you, Killian,” Elsa said, to which Killian kindly declined, saying he’d already thought ahead to bring some warmer clothes.

Emma shrugged out of the jacket, hanging it over the chair by her cup of hot chocolate. It was bitterer than she was used to, but good nonetheless. Elsa even had some whipped cream and cinnamon to top it with.

(Killian was the one to let Emma’s hot chocolate preferences spill - she still didn’t know what to think about that.)

To her credit (or perhaps former mentioned lack of better judgement) Elsa didn’t question them about sailing after Liam in November. She was worried, that much Emma could tell. A permanent wrinkle had all but settled in her forehead after worrying about Liam for weeks.

“Are you sure you don’t need an extra pair of hands?” Elsa asked, settling in her own seat with a glass of water.

“You would be a lovely help, Elsa, but I think the fewer we risk the better,” Killian answered. Elsa went to argue, but seemed to think better of it.

“I suppose you’re right. If I go there’ll be no stopping Anna from coming as well and she’s always been good at getting herself - and others - into trouble.” The words were said with a certain fondness that tugged at Emma’s heart. Elsa spoke of Liam with the same kind of fondness, though slightly different, leaving Emma to wonder what the situation between Elsa and Liam really was. She didn’t ask though.

They went on to discuss the further plans of finding Liam - if you could call what they had so far a plan. After Emma had told Killian going to Denmark to look for the spyglass wouldn’t be necessary anymore, he’d suggested coming back to Arendal first. That suggestion had been the one to bring them to Elsa’s kitchen.

On the bus back to Arendal, Killian had filled Emma in on what Elsa had told him at breakfast. Mainly about a certain ring Belle had mentioned a few days ago.

_“... she said Liam said he’d gotten it from Neverland.”_

_Emma nodded, remembering Belle’s words. It felt like forever ago - had it really only been three days?_

_“I asked Elsa about it,” Killian continued, “and she knew exactly what the ring was; the only thing keeping Liam alive, apparently.”_

_“What?”_

_“Aye, it sounds odd. But Elsa’s lived with him for the past six years - I reckon she knows what she’s talking about.”_

_“But how can a ring keep someone alive? I mean, unless it’s like some Lord-of-the-Rings-thing.”_

_“Well, apparently Liam went and got himself poisoned back in Neverland. He should’ve died, but the inhabitants of the island - an old peaceful folk - gifted him with the ring. It has some magical ability, stopping the poison from reaching his heart as long as he wears it on his person. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop the poison from meddling with his head, leaving him a bit out of sorts.”_

The ring - and the poison - was the reason Liam had gone back to Neverland now of all times, Elsa explained. Something was wrong with it. As if its magic had started to run out. Liam’s only hope for survival had been to travel back; if he had made it or not, no one knew.

At Elsa’s dining table, Killian explained the way of the objects again. The compass only worked on water. Once one had left shore, it would point out the proper heading towards Neverland. And when it started spinning without pause, one needed the sextant to go on. Follow the stars marked on the sextant, and one would get to the final stage. Then, only the spyglass was left. Look through it, and one would see Neverland at last.

The biggest problem now, was how to get on the water in the first place.

“Kristoff - that is, Anna’s husband - has relatives in the north-western part of Norway, who manage a small harbour. Liam rented one of their boats a month ago, but I’m not sure they’d be willing to rent out another here in November, with the same uncertain course as the boat they never got back.”

Elsa had a point. If it had been Emma, she’d certainly never even consider renting out her boat to someone who wanted to go _Neverland_ \- family or not.

Kristoff had another piece of mind. When Elsa called him, he was happy enough to swing by and help Emma and Killian with their planning. Anna coming along too probably had a lot to do with it.

Emma could withstand the couple, if only for the fact that they turned out to be a great help. (In all honesty, Emma didn’t mind Anna’s bubbling cheeriness _that_ much, but she did prefer Elsa’s quieter demeanour.)

Kristoff ensured them his cousins would be able to rent them a boat (“trust me - they still owe me big time for some stuff.”) and he didn’t mind lending Emma and Killian one of his two cars fit for the Norwegian winter, so they could make the trip to the harbour in good time. He’d do anything to help them find Liam.

Emma blamed the hot chocolate, but it warmed her to see how much these people wanted to help. It warmed her to see how happy and grateful Killian was to know that others cared about his brother too.

And well, Emma couldn’t help but feel proud to be a part of it all.

* * *

Twenty minutes. They had been driving for _twenty minutes_. Emma could have sworn at least an hour had passed since they left Arendal in the car borrowed from Kristoff but no. It had only been twenty _long_ minutes.

At least Emma had the excuse of focusing on driving. The car was a bit bigger than her yellow bug in New York, but both had stick shifts so that wasn’t a problem.

Five minutes in, Killian had started fumbling with the radio. There wasn’t much good, but he found a station with some old classics and that was good enough for both of them. Even when some of the classics were Norwegian.

It was odd for Killian to be so silent. Emma glanced to the side, finding him deeply invested in the map of Norway he had borrowed from Elsa. Every now and then, he told her when to turn, acting as her own personal GPS.

Driving had gone smoothly so far. The roads were great, even if there were a few sharp turns or long tunnels through mountains. The view was nothing less than beautiful though. Once they got further north, Emma suspected there would be more snow, and the driving probably wouldn’t go as smoothly. But keeping her eyes on the road and their surroundings was a decent distraction from her thoughts.

She just couldn’t deflect the image of running towards Killian and kissing him when he stepped out of the bus. Every time she thought she was done thinking about it, it came right back to annoy her.

But so what if she briefly thought of kissing him? He was attractive; she couldn’t deny that, and who doesn’t think about kissing someone attractive every now and then? (Ruby’s “climb him like a tree” came to mind.) It didn’t _mean_ anything. She had just seen too many romantic movies with heartfelt reunions and stuff. Hers and Killian’s reunion had hardly been heartfelt.

Emma was pulled back from her spiralling thoughts when the main character of said thoughts started humming. Humming along to INXS’ _Need You Tonight_ no less.

Emma gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter. Only eight hours more to go.

_You can do this, Emma_.

* * *

Killian wasn’t much aware of the fact that he was humming. His eyes were busy scanning the map in his hands and the road in front of them. He’d lived in America for a few years, aye, but driving on the right side of the road still messed with his head. Most of his travels since leaving Gold’s company - and America altogether - had been with the _Jolly Roger_. And Killian sure was beginning to miss his ship. Just seeing the sea again would be great - and in about eight hours, that wish would come true.

As occupied as Killian was with looking at the map or observing the stunning landscapes of Norway, he couldn’t stop thinking about the bloody monster that was Gold. Of course he’d had spies trailing their every move right from the beginning. He should have known. Should have been less suspicious of Swan and more observant of his surroundings.

Bloody hell, _Smee_ was a part of all this. Had he really been so blind to notice that Smee had been following them all this time? If Killian ever faced the man again, he’d be sure to give him a proper “thank you” for ratting out his family history to Gold. Granted, Smee hadn’t known everything. He hadn’t known about the sextant or the spyglass - only the compass. But Killian’s failure at being more observant had led Gold to getting his hands on the spyglass - and almost tricked Killian into going to Denmark in the process. If it hadn’t been for Swan...

So far, Killian had been trying to avoid looking at Emma. He feared that once he glanced at her, he wouldn’t be able to stop looking at her in awe, and he’d rather not have her catch him doing that.

A chuckle almost passed his throat again at the thought of Swan decking Smee and leaving him in a locked storage room at the airport. It took a special kind of person to do that - a special kind of _lawyer_ either way. And of course Emma would be that kind of brilliantly rash person.

He almost couldn’t believe she was actually there, right next to him, driving the car towards Neverland. Another reason he avoided looking at her might have been the fear that she wasn’t there at all, to which he’d realize no one was driving the car, and he was about to roll off a cliff or smash into a mountainside. And then wake up of course.

But no, Emma was there. She could have given him the spyglass and left. She could have not cared at all and left. But she came back, and she was in it for a ride to Neverland.

What had he done to deserve her trust?

He’d most likely never know, but he was going to do everything he could to live up to the faith she had put in him. Evidently, taking her on this adventure with uncertain destinations and sketchy people at their heels probably wasn’t the safest idea. Bloody hell, he was going to get them both killed, wasn’t he?

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. No use falling to doubt now. There was no going back; he had to find Liam, _had_ to. And he had to make sure Smee or this Zelena or Gold himself didn’t gain on them and get to Neverland first - or ever.

Emma’s phone rang, buzzing in her pocket. Killian thought of the glare she’d given him for letting his phone run out of battery when she needed to call him. He had felt oddly flattered by that.

Emma seemed not to hear the buzzing - she chose not to acknowledge it at least.

“You could pull over and answer if you’d like,” Killian suggested. “Or I’d be more than happy to grab it from your pocket and answer for you.”

Emma shrugged at the first suggestion and barely batted an eyelash at the second.

“Whoever it is, is probably gonna want to know what I’m up to, and I won’t be able to explain that anyways, so it might as well wait until later.”

The phone stopped ringing.

Only to start again a second later. Emma still didn’t move to pull over or even think of answering it.

“Someone’s persistent,” Killian noted. “Could be urgent, couldn’t it?”

Emma shrugged again. “Either it’s my boss calling to yell at me or it’s my mom wanting to know everything going on in my life right now.”

“Which would be worst?”

“Honestly?” Emma paused. “I’ve got no idea.”

She joked, but Killian could tell something was bothering her. She seemed a bit too relieved when the phone stopped ringing and didn’t start again.

Perhaps something was going on in her life at home. She’d mentioned a newly ended relationship at the bar in Barcelona - the bloke had proposed and she had ended it. Tough luck for him (Killian couldn’t help but feel a bit happy for himself though).

Maybe it was the former boyfriend calling; that certainly didn’t sound like a phone call you’d want to have.

Or maybe it was one of her friends - the bride-to-be Mary Margaret or that Ruby she had spoken of. They sounded like good friends of hers.

Killian found himself wondering what Emma was like back in New York, in her own comfort zone, hanging out with her friends. He found himself wondering a lot of things about Emma. Much like he had the entire past week.

She was adopted, that much he knew. But unlikely before she’d encountered some hard times on her own; her eyes alone told him that much.

She worked hard at whatever was thrown her way; liked cinnamon on her hot chocolate; was fiercely devoted to her red leather jacket (not that he didn’t like it himself); had a hard time trusting people; liked a good drink or two, along with onion rings and grilled cheese... he’d come to know a lot about her in one week actually, now that he thought of it. Yet he felt like there was so much he didn’t know about her. And he _wanted_ to know; he’d gladly spend years discovering every little thing he could about Emma Swan.

There was just something about her that intrigued him to no end. Something that pulled him to her in a way he couldn’t describe. Killian couldn’t help but feel like there was some sort of bond between them, some sort of understanding, even if Swan was somewhat of an enigma to him. He could read her like an open book, but he was having some trouble finding the details amongst the grand picture.

“Do you think they’re following us?” Emma asked, breaking Killian’s momentary spell.

“Who? Gold’s lackeys?”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose so.” The thought was unsettling. Emma must have felt the same way; Killian wasn’t sure if the car picking up speed was his imagination or not. “Ever done anything like this before in your line of work, Swan?”

“What, been followed across countries in some race for a place that should be fictional? Can’t say I have, no.”

The question was there on the tip of his tongue: why was she here then? What had changed her mind? He couldn’t bring himself to ask though. A part of him feared the answer; another feared he’d be pushing too hard.

The current song playing - a Norwegian classic - faded into the recognizable beat of _Born to Be Wild_. A proper road-trip-song in Killian’s eyes. He started humming again and hid a smile at the way Swan tapped her finger against the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

* * *

Emma’s head rested against the window. Killian had turned down the music a while ago, letting both of their ears rest without leaving them in complete silence. It was kind of nice actually. The sun had set a little while ago, and she and Killian had swapped seats about an hour ago once she had started to feel a bit tired. She hadn’t slept much last night after all.

They’d been driving through mountains for quite a while. There was snow everywhere - fortunately not on the roads - and Emma was in awe of it all. She even took a few pictures (and saw that the earlier calls had been from her mom).

For the past couple of hours, they’d been driving from island to island (sometimes on bridges, other times helped by a ferry) on the west coast of Norway. Studying the country on the map, Emma thought it looked like the coast had been ripped apart, leaving it in bits and pieces.

Despite her tired eyes, she only managed a few minutes of sleep at a time - if you could call it sleeping. They’d be at the harbour in about half an hour anyways. No use falling asleep now, so close to the end of the road.

Once she started to feel her bladder pressing, sleep was definitely out of the question.

Along the way, they’d encountered several small toilet houses - terribly cold and disgusting, but better than nothing. Fortunately, they came across another before long, and Killian pulled over. Turned out both of them needed a short break.

It was really fucking cold. Emma got it over with as quickly as possible, Killian as well, and both hurried back to the warmth of the car. (There weren’t any sinks at the toilet houses, but Killian was smart enough to carry a hand sanitizer in his satchel.)

Emma shut the door, shivering and tugging her borrowed jacket tighter around her after securing her seat belt. Killian turned the key in the ignition and-

_No._

The last sound anyone ever wants to hear when starting a car greeted them. A short burst of power from the engine and then a flat death.

Emma’s and Killian’s eyes met, both going ‘please tell me this isn’t happening’.

Killian tried again. But once more, the car wouldn’t start and the sound of it dying out was like a big, fat “fuck you”.

“Well, this is rather unfortunate,” Killian said.

Emma glared at him. How dare he try to make light of the situation?

“Why isn’t the car starting?”

“Wish I knew, Swan. I wouldn’t be sitting here in a non-moving vehicle if I did though.”

That earned him another glare.

“Try again.”

Killian obliged, but the car wouldn’t cooperate. Emma shut her eyes, all but banging her head against the headrest, emitting a harsh ‘ _fuck’_.

“I’ll be sure to thank Kristoff for this lovely car of his.”

This was not happening.

“I’ll try and check the engine, love.”

_This was not happening_.

Emma joined Killian as he stepped out of the car to check the motor. Both of them studied it for a second before Killian asked, “You don’t happen to know anything about car engines, do you?”

She’d been to the mechanics with her old bug a number of times, but she’d never really stayed around to learn anything. She remembered being interested in cars once as a kid, before Ingrid took her in. It hadn’t lasted though - the foster family sent her back, and her interest in mechanics faded with the bitter memory of the mechanic who had been her foster father for a few months.

 “Aren’t you the engineer?” Emma countered.

“Aye, but old-time ships are a mite different than cars, love.”

Emma bit back the string of curse words she felt like shouting. She pulled out her phone and-

“There’s no reception. Stranded on the road in freaking Norway in November and there’s _no fucking reception_.”

She could kick something. Or punch something.

“You know,” Killian started, opening the car door again and pulling out the map, “we aren’t far from the harbour. We could probably walk the rest of the way.”

Emma stared at him as if he’d proposed walking to New York. “You want to _walk_?”

“Would you rather wait here and freeze to death?” Killian asked, nodding at the car.

“Killian, we hardly know where we are, it’s cold and it’s dark and there’s snow everywhere - do you _want_ to die?”

“We have a map and a road to follow, don’t we? It’ll take about three hours - perhaps more - but we’ve got some snacks left from Elsa’s and perhaps we’ll stumble across a village or some hospitable soul living here in the wilderness.”

“Do you see any towns on that map?” Emma asked. Killian didn’t answer, and she knew what that meant.

But... fuck it, he had a point. The car would soon lose its heat and they’d be human icicles before long unless they huddled close or something - and that wasn’t going to happen.

Emma couldn’t believe she was going to agree with this. It was the stupidest plan ever since - well, since agreeing to go find Neverland.

“Fine,” she huffed. “We’ll walk. But if I slip or fall or get eaten by some beast or something, I’m coming back to kill you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.”

Killian went to get his satchel with the three objects in it, and handed the backpack with provisions to Emma. She looked at her suitcase in the trunk and knew there was no way in hell she was dragging it with her. They’d come back for the car at some point anyways... she took one of her sweaters and a pair of extra socks and stuffed them in the backpack.

“I bet you’re glad for that coat and those boots now,” Killian said as they started walking.

“Shut up.”

Mercifully, he did.

But she was glad for the coat, boots, gloves and beanie. _Very_ glad.

* * *

They’d fallen into some meaningless talk again after a few minutes - mainly Killian saying a few witty comments and her countering them. It was nice though. Anything to distract her from the crunching snow beneath her feet and the fact that she could have been in a warm car right now. Or at home.

Weirdly enough, she wished the car had just not broken down, more than she wished she’d gone back to New York.

At least they weren’t walking in complete darkness. Killian had his flashlight, and the sky was actually somewhat clear. Emma hadn’t seen that many stars in quite a lot of years - if ever.

The brisk air kept her awake, but Emma was well and truly tired. And they’d only walked for half an hour. She knew she could continue until the end if she had to, but dammit she was tired. Killian was too, she could tell.

So when she looked to her right, she concluded she must have fallen asleep while walking.

“Killian?”

“Aye, love?”

She held his arm, stopping him and making him aim the light from the flashlight at the direction of her pointing finger.

“Is that a house?”

It was a small cabin really. Windows unlit, no smoke from the chimney. If there was a driveway leading to the cabin, the snow was covering it.

“Certainly looks like a house; four walls, a roof, standard house-necessities.”

Emma supposed their next decision spoke volumes of their exhaustion. An axe-murderer could be living there. Or it could be empty. And they could break in and hope to find a bit of warmth. Either way, they chose to check it out and hoped for the best.

At a closer glance, Emma was a hundred percent sure the place was empty. It didn’t exactly look abandoned and run-down though. Maybe it was a summer residence, left uninhabited in the winter.

They tried the door, finding it locked. But they were cold and tired and a locked door wasn’t going to stand in their way. Had it been warmer, Emma could have tried picking the lock. But it was cold, and smashing a rock through the window next to the door seemed like a much better idea.

Soon enough, Emma and Killian were shielded from the cold wind and had a solid floor beneath their feet. It was still freezing cold, but definitely _much_ better.

Together, they explored the small cabin, finding an empty kitchen, a tiny bathroom, a bedroom and a living room. The best discovery was the stock of firewood next to the fireplace.

“What do you say we get reacquainted with our fingertips, love?”

“And our toes.”

Emma longed to sink into the couch across from the fireplace, just disappear into the cushions and wait for the warmth of the fire to reach her. But the air was still cold and she imagined she’d freeze into a human icicle if she sat still. So instead, she went looking for blankets. Anything she could snuggle up in would suffice, really. And no, her eyes did not flicker towards Killian as she thought that. 

Whoever owned the cabin wasn’t too fond of leaving their belongings behind during the winter. Emma opened various empty cupboards and cabinets before finally finding a single duvet in a bag under the bed. Cold it may be, but that could quickly be remedied. With a tired smile, Emma returned to the living room with the rather large duvet wrapped around her shoulders. Killian looked up from the first growing flames as she finally sank into the couch with a sigh.

“You look rather cosy there,” he smiled. Emma murmured something incoherent in return, closing her eyes for a moment.

When he felt assured the fire wouldn’t go out anytime soon, Killian rose, causing Emma to realize she was taking up the entire couch with the duvet pooling around her. She opened her eyes, just enough to see Killian standing there, obviously unsure where to sit.

“I only found one blanket,” Emma started, apologetically, but Killian interrupted before she could continue.

“It’s quite alright, love, don’t worry. I imagine sitting closer to the fire will be warmer anyways.”

And damned him, he really was about to sit on the cold wooden floor in front of the fireplace. Emma knew he only meant to be polite. He didn’t want to push any boundaries. But Emma wasn’t so fragile she couldn’t share a damned blanket.

“It’s a pretty large blanket, you know.”

Killian still didn’t move to sit next to her and Emma wanted to roll her eyes at him. He really wanted her to spell it out for him, huh?

“And I could use some help keeping it warm.” Her words were the perfect invitation for some stupid innuendo, but Emma was too tired to care by now. When no innuendo came though, only a nod from Killian, she almost felt disappointed.

She lifted the duvet, scuttling a bit to the side so Killian could have a seat under the blanket without the two of them having to sit with their sides pressed against each other.

If only the duvet was that large.

Cold air seeped through the gap between them and they both shifted to get more comfortable. Which inevitably left them with their sides pressed against each other.

Emma lifted a hand to pull off her beanie; at least her cheeks were warm by now. And the rest of her was quickly warming up too next to Killian - the man was a freaking furnace.

Panic should have settled in by now, sitting so close to Killian, all but lost in Norway. And a bit of panic had settled in; that familiar urge to run, to get out of there as fast as she could. But where exactly could she go? The way things were, she’d just have to deny ever feeling she had, suck it up and at the very least not let Killian know what was going on in her head.

A clock on the mantle showed half past eight. They should have been at the harbour by now, according to the plan they’d made with Kristoff and his cousins on the phone back at Elsa’s place.

Trying not to move too much, Emma pulled her phone out.

“Still no reception?” Killian asked when she sighed and put her phone away.

“Nope.” She shifted in her seat again, wondering if she should take her boots off.

“I’d wager this isn’t what you’d imagined when you decided not to go back home,” Killian said, his voice soft. Emma wondered what he was thinking - did he regret letting her come with him?

“I’m not sure what I imagined.” Her own voice was starting to sound drowsy, barely more than a whisper.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Killian asked. Emma barely heard him through the wind rattling against the windows, the fire crackling in front of them and the thoughts racing through her head. She wasn’t sure what he meant. Looking to the side, she found him staring at the fire. “Why didn’t you go back to New York like you’d planned?”

Emma thought of it for a moment, tearing her eyes off of the way the glow of the flames flickered against his face. “I noticed Smee following me and then I got the spyglass and well, I couldn’t leave when I had the spyglass you were about to go to Denmark for.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the spyglass and Neverland.”

“Maybe a part of me does.”

Her words lingered in the air for a moment before Killian spoke again.

“You could have given me the spyglass and returned home.”

“And missed the chance to see Neverland with my own eyes?”

She knew Killian was right. And she knew her reasons for staying weren’t just about discovering the truth about Neverland. Killian didn’t say more, and Emma couldn’t help but worry if he would have preferred it if she’d gone back to New York.

A yawn soon took over Emma, the long day getting through to her amongst everything else.

“We should probably try and get some sleep, love,” Killian said, his voice soft and warm. He didn’t cheekily offer up his shoulder for her to sleep on. Perhaps he was too tired. Both of them shifted, trying to get more comfortable in the small space, resting their heads against the back of the couch. Emma’s head almost ended up on his shoulder anyway.

No matter how tired she was though, the thoughts spiralling in her head prevailed. She tried closing her eyes, tried focusing on the sounds of the crackling fire and nothing else, but the warmth of Killian beside her kept stealing her focus.

In the end, Emma gave up.

“Killian?”

“Aye, love?” He didn’t sound like he was about to fall asleep, though he did seem rather tired. If only Emma knew his state of mind was much like her own.

“Nothing. Just checking to see if you were awake.”

Killian turned to look at her, his face close enough for Emma to count every single eyelash. Or study the scar on his cheek. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah… I was just…” Emma sighed, wishing she was better with words. Absentmindedly, her thumb traced the cut on her palm. That’s when the idea came to her. “Do you still have that flask of rum?”

Killian didn’t ask any questions, only leaned forward to grab his satchel from the floor. “Brilliant idea, love. Quite surprised I didn’t think of it myself to be honest.”

He handed the flask to her first, letting her take a swig of the nice, warming liquor. Liquid courage, a part of her whispered to herself.

When Killian had swallowed his own mouthful of rum and a few moments of silence had passed, Emma let the question slip from her lips at last.

“Why did you let me come with you? I mean, you said no to Elsa’s help; she probably would’ve been more help than me though.”

The question took him by surprise at first. But then, of all things, Killian began to chuckle.

“I had the feeling I wouldn’t be able to stop you even if I wanted to.”

Well, he was probably right about that.

“And I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

Emma refused to lift her gaze from her lap. A part of her wanted to panic, to roll her eyes at him in defence, but truthfully, she couldn’t argue. They _did_ make quite the team.

She reached for the flask in his hand and he let her take it. With another mouthful of rum warming her throat and belly, Emma relaxed into the cushions again.

“You’re not that terrible you know. When you’re not lying and stuff,” she admitted. Only two mouthfuls of liquor, but in her tired state, they were enough to liberate her tongue.

“I believe that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Swan,” Killian grinned, and Emma couldn’t find it in herself to regret her words when that grin was the result. “You’re not that terrible either, you know.”

He said it jokingly, but his eyes showed a deeper truth to his words. “In fact,” he added, “you might be one of the bravest people I know for going through with all this-“

“Or stupidest,” Emma interjected.

“Aye, that may be,” Killian smiled, but his tone turned more serious. “Just know that I truly am thankful, Swan. Liam always meant the world to me - don’t ever tell him, but I used to liken him as somewhat of a superhero when I was younger. And well, it means the world to me now that you’re here to help me find him again.”

Emma tried smiling at him as if to say there was nothing to thank her for, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Truthfully, his words had warmed her more than any liquor ever could.

“You know, I didn’t just stay to find out if Neverland is real or not,” Emma said, twirling the flask in her hands.

“Aye?”

She almost couldn’t bear to look at him, his eyes so hopeful, reminding her of that _other_ other reason she’d stayed.

“Looking for Liam kinda reminded me of who I was a couple of years ago.”

She could have left it at that, and Killian would have let her, she knew. There was just something about him that made her feel like he’d understand without pitying her or looking at her differently. There was something about him that made her _want_ to tell him. Not because she needed to, not because she felt forced. She just wanted to.

“I spent most of my life wondering where my parents were - my real parents. I spent years trying to find them, even after Ingrid adopted me. I just needed to know _why_ they’d left me. After my first year at college I stopped looking for them. A part of me just gave up; the other part figured I didn’t really need to know anyways. It wouldn’t change anything. But still, not knowing…” Emma stared at the flames, unable to look at Killian as she spoke. “It sucks. And if I can’t find my own family, at least I can help you find your brother instead of going back to New York and working on some other meaningless business transaction.”

Killian didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t try to push her. She couldn’t help but think of Walsh - he all but forced her to talk about her childhood at times, saying it was good for her to let it out. Good for _them_ to not have any secrets between them. But Killian… he just understood, without ever having to push.

“I guess we can both feel fortunate you were assigned to this mess of a case then, aye?”

And like that, he had her smiling again.

The topic changed, veering into lighter subjects, the conversation getting less and less coherent as both were exhausted. Killian told her more about his childhood, though he focused on the fun parts rather than his drunken father. Emma had a few good stories about Ingrid to share as well.

At one point, while Killian spoke, Emma realized she wasn’t really listening anymore. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore either. They’d been talking for more than an hour, passing the flask between them and forgetting the world outside for a moment.

Killian was looking at her, albeit not really holding her gaze. His eyes drifted across her face, idly mapping every freckle. Emma found herself getting lost in the blue of his eyes, absentmindedly licking her lips. Briefly, his eyes met hers with a smile, and in that very moment, Emma finally let herself admit the last reason she hadn’t gone back to New York.

Killian Jones really was a good man. Throughout all the lies and the doubts, he’d proved himself trustworthy. Kind. And she... well, she liked him. Liked his easy company, the understanding that had formed between them, the humorous banter edging on flirting, and yeah, he certainly wasn’t bad to look at.

She was tired; her limbs had long ago succumbed to the warmth of the fire. And the warmth coming from Killian and somewhere deep inside herself. How had she ever been cold before? She was tired, and she wasn’t thinking entirely straight. Yet she felt more aware of herself than ever, more certain of her movements than she had in a long time.

One moment she was looking at Killian’s lips, the next, Emma surged forward and caught them with her own. She took him by surprise to say the least - interrupted him mid-sentence. Not that he seemed to mind.

He groaned against her mouth, a sound Emma relished more than anything, and after less than a split second, Killian’s lips were just as eagerly pursuing hers.

His arm curled around her, the other reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair as she gripped the back of his neck. They pulled each other closer, sharing their warmth until it was almost too much. Emma’s toes curled in her boots, sparks coursing from the very tips of them to her head and back again.

She pulled back, her breathing heavy. For a second he sought to chase her mouth for another kiss but let his forehead rest against hers and they stayed like that, curled up against each other, curled up in the moment.

Emma couldn’t remember ever being kissed like that. With such passion and raw understanding of each other - as if the feeling was familiar yet so, _so_ new.

She could have stayed like that for hours, her nose almost nuzzling his.

But this wasn’t her. Losing herself in a first kiss like that with so much uncertainty still lingering, that wasn’t safe. Wasn’t smart. And she was tired, she wasn’t thinking straight, she wasn’t supposed to kiss him.

 “That-”

“was a one-time thing,” Emma cut him off, surprising herself at how sure she sounded when she felt anything _but_ sure. Her thoughts were racing and she couldn’t keep up. She didn’t want to keep up. “We... we should sleep.”

“Aye… as you wish.”

Emma’s heart tugged a little at those words, memories of watching the Princess Bride as a kid flashing through her head. She didn’t look at him, kept her eyes downcast and shifted a bit in her seat. His voice was edging on hoarse, his breathing still heavy like hers. What was going on in _his_ head?

No, she didn’t want to wonder about that.

Had she been more awake - or more sober - she would’ve fought to maintain a distance between them, perhaps even going as far as leaving the couch all together. But she wasn’t entirely sober, and despite the fire the kiss had alighted inside her, Emma was close to passing out from exhaustion. So instead of moving away, she rested her head on Killian’s shoulder, murmuring a ‘goodnight’ against his jacket.

“Goodnight Emma.”

Neither said more, and Emma let herself be lulled by the crackling fire and the wind howling outside. Her heart still raced and she imagined his did as well if his heavy breathing was anything to by. She let that sound, and the steady rise and fall of his chest sooth her to sleep, as he finally found rest as well.

Neither woke until two hours later when the headlights of a car beamed through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is obviously a favourite because of a certain cabin-moment, but looking through it one last time before posting, I was reminded of an experience of my own that gave inspiration to this fic: on a skiing trip to Norway in February where our car indeed wouldn't start... fortunately, we weren't in the middle of nowhere, but honestly, there's nothing worse than when your car won't freaking start.
> 
> with that little extra info about the inspiration for this story, I'd like to thank you for reading! I've honestly forgotten how much time I've spent on this fic this year, now that I just have to post the chapters, and it honestly means so much to me just to know that people are reading it! (and hopefully enjoying it too) :))) see ya next week!!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to find out who's interrupted Emma and Killian's little moment!
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving comments - and thank you to [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/) for joining me on this journey!
> 
> Check out theblacksiren's artwork for chapter 12 [here](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/post/167418032261/norway-chapter-one-ao3-the-time-has-come/)!

“Swan?”

Emma’s eyes were just cracking open, disturbed by the sudden light blaring through the window. It must have woken them at the same time. Since when was sunlight so sharp?

In a few seconds, Emma’s brain caught up, forgetting the way Killian’s voice sounded when he’d just woken up. She barely took in how close they’d been sitting to each other, all but tangled up together. Normally, it would have freaked her out, but something else made her jerk upright.

That wasn’t sunlight.

“Shit.”

In the few seconds Emma had taken to process everything, Killian must have come to the same conclusion. They ripped off the blanket, scrambling to get their belongings. The fire had died out, only ashen embers left. Would there still be smoke? Would the newcomers have seen it?

Emma mumbled a series of curse words as she fumbled through the blanket to find her beanie. “What the hell are we gonna do?”

“Sneak out a window and make a run for it?”

“Killian, there’s snow - we’ll leave footprints and they’ll get us in their car in no time.” Something else hit Emma. “We’ve already _left_ footprints. Shit, they’ll know someone was in their house straight away.”

“I think the smashed window would have been a dead giveaway anyways, love.”

She glared at him though he had a point. _Shit,_ what were they going to do?

Emma looked out of the window as the car finally pulled to a stop, the headlights going out.

“Perhaps they’ll be understanding folks.”

“Killian, we smashed their window.”

“Aye, ‘cause we were desperate. We’ll pay for it and hope they can sympathize with a couple lost and near freezing to death.”

Now was not the time to stress over the way it sounded when Killian called them a ‘couple’.

The car door to the driver’s side opened, the light inside the car turning on. Emma couldn’t help but look.

Her stomach flipped when she did.

The woman driving - red, wavy hair - wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to Emma and she could take a guess at her name from the red-hatted man with a bruise on his face sitting next to her.

“Bloody hell,” Killian said, just as she said “fuck”.

Smee and Zelena were right at their heels, and Emma and Killian had nowhere to run to. They could probably take them down in a fight though, Emma mused.

“They might not know it’s us in here,” Killian said. “Could be they’re just looking for a place to stay themselves.”

“Do you really think that’s true?” Emma asked, doubtful.

Killian shrugged. “We could take a shot. Hop out of the bedroom window and hope they don’t follow us.”

“Or we could wait behind the door and knock something over their heads.”

“Rather violent, aren’t you, Swan?”

The grin he sent her way made the whole thing seem that much more bizarre to her. They’d kissed only two hours ago - yeah, she wasn’t forgetting that anytime soon - they were about to face someone who’d been following them for the past week, and had far from pure intentions, and somehow Killian found the time to grin at her like there was nothing going on but a chance to flirt.

As for her suggestion, well, Emma knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. A blunt knock on the head didn’t have to be lethal, but it would usually leave a bit of damage - not that Emma minded much with these two. She’d still rather not get herself into some big mess though. Breaking and entering was already enough. She was a lawyer for god’s sake!

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

“Actually love, I think you’ll find my way much more preferable,” Killian said, nodding at the car as Zelena and Smee stepped out of it. “She left the key in the ignition - we could end up benefiting quite nicely from this situation.”

Why the hell would she have left the key in the ignition?

Emma didn’t have much time to ponder that, too busy heading for the bedroom with Killian as Zelena and Smee neared the front door. Killian propped open the window with a bit of difficulty due to the frost and the window not having been opened in who knew how long. With a grunt, he managed to slide it open enough for them to pass through. He let Emma go first.

“We can’t take the car,” she said as she landed on the snow.

“We can’t take the car? Swan, don’t tell me you’ve gone all righteous on me now,” Killian said, crawling out of the window.

“It could be a trap,” Emma explained. “Why else would she leave the key in the ignition?”

“Because she doesn’t expect anyone to steal her car out in the snowy Norwegian wilderness?” Killian suggested as if it were obvious. “Or she’s just forgetful.”

“It’s a trap,” Emma upheld.

“What trap could possibly be worse than leaving us to run in the cold of the night while they’ve got a car?”

Emma thought of that for a moment, hating that he was right.

The front door clicking open sounded through the window, and both knew they hadn’t the time to stand there and argue.

“The car it is.”

While Smee and Zelena checked the inside of the cabin, Emma and Killian rounded the corners of the house, careful to duck under the windows.

“I’ll drive,” Emma whispered. They didn’t waste any time checking to see if Zelena and Smee had noticed them- they just ran for it.

Emma’s heart raced for a very different reason than it had two hours ago. She ripped open the car door and jumped in as Killian did the same. The slamming of the doors surely gave them away.

Just as well, as Emma turned the key and the car roared to life, Zelena came running out of the front door, Smee behind her. The woman looked absolutely murderous.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked as Emma started backing out of there. “You filthy thieves - you will pay for this!”

“Some other time maybe,” Emma muttered, turning the wheel and stepping on the gas. Hell, it felt good to be in a warm, moving car again. She almost forgot her previous suspicions.

A few seconds down the road, the cabin lost behind a hill, Emma’s face broke into a huge grin.

She’d stolen a car. She’d punched a man and locked him in at an airport, broken into a stranger’s house and now she’d stolen a car. A small laughter spilled from her lips, partly from the adrenaline and partly from the total craziness her life had become.

Killian joined in on the laughter, a deep and warm sound. Emma almost lost control of the car, laughter rolling through her to the point where a few tears were about to form.

This was crazy.

She had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation. This entire trip had to be a dream. Especially the part about her kissing Killian and that kiss being the best one she’d ever had. Yeah, now probably wasn’t the best time to think about that.

The laughter died out, and Emma would have expected some sort of panic to settle in, but in a few words, Killian had her grinning all over again.

“Commandeering a vessel, Swan? And you said you weren’t a pirate.”

* * *

While they neared the small harbour, Swan keeping a fast and steady speed, Killian finally got some reception on his old phone. They’d made a deal with Kristoff’s cousins to be there at half past eight, lend two mattresses for the night and then sail off in the early morning. That plan had obviously been derailed - it was now 11:23 in the evening.

Killian called the number Kristoff had given them. His cousins - two brothers - lived together in a small apartment by the seaside. They owned a few boats and liked to tinker with them and rent them out or sail with tourists, aside from going fishing. So far, they’d promised Emma and Killian they could borrow one of their oldest yet still functioning boats for a small price - they didn’t use it much anymore anyway. Killian hoped to push the deal so they could leave tonight, rather than the early morning. The less time Smee and Zelena had to catch up with them, the better.

“Is no one answering?” Swan asked after Killian had held the phone to his ear for a while without anyone picking up.

“Afraid not.” They were probably asleep. As much as Killian hated the thought of disturbing them, he knew they’d have to drive to their door and ring the bell until they woke. What else could they do?

Before he could pocket his phone, it started ringing. Killian flipped it open to see the number he’d just been trying to reach calling him back.

It seemed they weren’t that unfortunate after all.

Kristoff’s cousin was quite understanding of the whole car-breaking-down-situation, joking that of course Kristoff would lend them a terrible car. Killian wasn’t sure how much he should tell the fellow about them being followed, but he stressed that if they could sail tonight, it would be highly preferable.

The fellow didn’t mind at all.

“I trust you know how to sail in the dark - you said you’d been sailing most of your life, right?”

“Aye. It shan’t be a problem. Thanks again, mate.” Killian hung up and turned to Emma. “Looks like we’ll be going straight to Neverland tonight.”

* * *

Feeling more alive than he had in a long time - despite the late hour and the cold air - Killian steered the small sailboat out of the harbour. Kristoff’s cousins waved them off for a few minutes, but when Killian looked back to check a second time, the two men were gone. They deserved to go back home and sleep - they were bloody saints in Killian’s eyes for helping them like this. If - no, _when_ they got back, Killian would be sure to give them a fine bottle of whatever-they-pleased to thank them.

“Could you fetch the compass, love?” Killian asked, keeping both hands on the ship’s wheel. Emma had never sailed before - not on a boat such as this at least. He didn’t need much help sailing such a small vessel, but Swan was quick and able to follow the simple requests he gave her. Provided he didn’t use too many “fancy ship words” as she put it.

Emma found the compass in his satchel which was secured in a small compartment by the helm. She studied it herself before handing it over to him. “It’s definitely pointing somewhere,” she noted.

“Aye - let’s hope it’s not merely due north, or we’ve got the wrong compass on hand.” Killian had his own small compass in the pocket of his leather coat for that exact occasion. He compared the two, quickly seeing that his uncle’s compass was faulty when it came to pointing north. Hopefully, it wasn’t just faulty.

Killian turned the wheel, setting their course.

“How long until the next step?” Emma asked.

“Haven’t a clue.”

Out on the open water at last, winds in their sails and moonlight shining through the clouds, Killian felt like he could finally breathe properly again.

Emma settled in on the built-in bench in front of the helm, looking out over the prow of the boat. Killian’s eyes were set forward as well, but they kept flickering down to Emma.

With all the rush of Smee and Zelena finding them, stealing their car, and racing towards the harbour, Killian hadn’t had the time to really think about what had happened in that cabin. It lingered in his mind the entire time, pushed back by what Killian deemed more important matters at the moment. Now, out on the open sea, nothing was stopping the memory of that kiss from flooding his mind.

She had kissed him. Emma Swan had kissed him. He’d imagined what it would be like several times before, looking at her mouth and noticing just how delectable her lips looked. No dream could ever compare to the real thing.

Bloody hell, he couldn’t remember the last time a kiss had gotten his heart racing like that, every nerve alighting. Since Milah, he hadn’t thought he’d ever end up feeling like that again. There’d been a few girls here and there, during lonely nights in low-lit bars, but to have a simple kiss make him feel so alive... he could hardly remember feeling that way, even with Milah. He and Milah had shared something special too; a fire in itself, but there was something about Emma that he just couldn’t describe.

It was a miracle he had fallen asleep at all on that couch, Emma right next to him.

Killian licked his lips, imagining that intoxicating feeling that hadn’t gone away until he fell asleep, but all he tasted now was the salt of the sea.

Emma sat in silence, perhaps grabbing the chance for a bit of rest. All Killian could see was the beanie covering her head, and the fur of her borrowed coat warming her neck. The wind caught a few strands of her hair; in the moonlight, the usually golden colour shined silver.

She’d entranced him. One kiss, and Killian knew there was no going back from the way he’d started to feel about Swan. One kiss wasn’t enough to find out what exactly it was that she did to him, how she made him feel more alive than ever. One kiss wasn’t enough for him at all.

* * *

Aside from the wind blowing in the sails and the waves lapping at the boat, the night was dead silent. Emma was tempted to fall asleep, the few hours she’d gotten earlier not at all enough. It was just so peaceful, despite the cold wind and the uncertain purpose of their moonlight sail-trip. She’d found a blanket to snuggle in, feeling a bit guilty for not doing much work. Killian didn’t seem to mind though. And in the end, knowing that he was right behind her, making sure they kept their course, was the very thing that kept Emma awake.

She’d gone several days without many hours of sleep before anyway. She could handle this.

Her thoughts kept returning to that heat-of-the-moment kiss. Except it hadn’t just been a heat-of-the-moment-thing, as much as she claimed it was. She couldn’t deny she’d been thinking about kissing him for the entire day (there’d also been that night when she’d first met him on the train in England, unaware of how much he’d come to mean for the case. He’d played a big part in keeping her awake that night too, but Emma chose _not_ to think of that).

In the end, the moment had definitely _turned_ heated, but Emma was fooling herself in thinking she hadn’t wanted to do it. Because she very much had. Now that she’d done it, she could put it past her though. The itch had been scratched (somewhat), the curiosity satisfied (again, somewhat). She was sure now that she meant it when she had said it was a one-time-thing.

No matter how much a part of her wanted it to be a several-times-thing.

At least Killian had seemed rather stricken as well. What was he thinking about, standing silently behind her? Was he having as much trouble forgetting everything as she was?

“Swan!” As if he’d known she’d been thinking of him, Killian blurted her name, startling her from her thoughts. “The compass - the needle’s started spinning.”

Emma whipped her head around to look at the compass for herself as he held it up for her to see. As he’d said, the needle had started to spin in circles without pause. Both knew what this meant.

Emma reached to open the small compartment wherein Killian’s satchel and the backpack with snacks lay. She found the sextant in his satchel, carefully wrapped in multiple layers of cloth.

“The sextant’s next right?” Emma asked, standing up. She kept the blanket around her shoulders, clutching it with one hand while holding the sextant out for Killian in the other.

“Aye, thanks, love,” Killian said, taking the sextant.

“So I’m kinda trusting you know how to use that.”

Killian gave her a look as if offended she’d ever doubt him. “Of course I know how to use a bloody sextant, Swan. And fortunately for us, the skies have cleared up - although that may just be due to the magic of the compass. This sextant shows markings unlike any I’ve ever seen.” Killian studied the surface of the unwrapped sextant before looking up at the night sky. Emma followed his gaze. The skies had certainly cleared - Emma could have sworn there were clouds obscuring the moonlight just a few minutes before. “Aye, look there, love.” Killian pointed at a certain part of the sky.

Emma wasn’t sure what to look at. She’d never known much of constellations - the big dipper was about as far as her knowledge spanned - and all she saw was a group of stars, uncertain which belonged to each other. Who decided that anyways?

“That constellation there,” Killian said, pointing out the exact stars and the invisible lines between them as Emma stepped closer to him. She shouldn’t be able to feel his warmth through her jacket and the blanket, right? Emma ignored that for the moment, concentrating on finding the constellation. “It’s not a part of the sky as we - or anyone else in the world - knows it,” Killian continued.

Emma needed a second to process the exact meaning of his words.

“So it just doesn’t exist anywhere else than here? How’s that possible?”

“I think we need to re-evaluate our perception of what’s possible and what’s not if we want to go to Neverland, Swan.”

He had a point.

“So what’s next? Second star to the right and then straight on ‘till morning?”

Killian chuckled, eyeing the sextant again. “Not quite, but almost actually.”

He tried to explain how the sextant and everything worked, and were it not for the obvious passion he spoke with, which completely captivated her, she might have learned something. She listened, she really did, but her brain was too busy admiring the glow in his eyes. Killian really loved sailing. Just being out here, he almost seemed like an entirely different person; more relaxed. Like he was at home.

Emma finally understood what he meant when he said he wasn’t afraid of flying - that he just preferred other methods of travelling.

(Though she was still convinced he was afraid of flying.)

They sailed on for a while, minutes or hours, Emma wasn’t sure. At some point, she checked her phone for the time; it wasn’t even four in the morning yet. During the winter season, she knew the sun was late in rising in Norway - certainly not before seven at least. Yet stripes of red and yellow started to appear in the sky, like someone had painted over the black night with a thin brush.

Well, if the night sky was different from the rest of the world, Emma supposed they weren’t even in Norway anymore. They were in their own little bubble, like something out of a dream. Appropriate, Emma thought, since Neverland was supposedly the island of dreams.

Only then did it start to dawn on Emma that Killian really had been telling the truth - not that she’d ever doubted that he _believed_ it was the truth. Emma only believed in what she saw. She wouldn’t believe in Neverland, wouldn’t believe in magic until she had actual proof.

Well, the proof was beginning to pile on, it seemed.

Emma turned to Killian. He had let her try out steering the wheel while he focused on the sextant. It was quite exhilarating really, steering the boat on her own, wind blowing in her hair. She felt like she should be in a movie or something.

Killian had turned his head towards Emma just as she turned hers. They didn’t need words to communicate the thought in both of their heads when they saw the rising sun.

They’d reached the final step.

While Emma kept her hands on the wheel, Killian went to exchange the sextant for the spyglass. She expected him to look through it straight away, but - ever the gentleman - he held it out for her to look through it first.

“You sure you don’t want the first look?”

“I’d rather you found out first and let me know what to expect.”

She knew he wasn’t entirely honest, but let it go anyway.

The winds weren’t strong anymore and Emma could easily let go of the wheel for a moment to take the spyglass.

She twirled it in her hands for a few seconds. All around her, nothing could be seen but open water. It felt silly to look through a spyglass - she wasn’t even sure _where_ to look. Towards the sunrise she supposed.

Anticipation raced through her and she tried to calm herself down, preparing herself for the likely event that she wouldn’t be able to see anything once she lifted the spyglass. But everything else had turned out to be true...

 _Here goes nothing_ , Emma thought, raising the spyglass to her eye.

“Bloody hell.”

Killian spoke just as Emma felt like her heart might stop. Through the lens, right there on the horizon, an island that hadn’t been there before loomed as if it had never been anywhere else.

But why was Killian the one swearing?

Emma lowered the spyglass, turning to question Killian. Not before taking one more look at the horizon though. And even without looking through the spyglass, Emma saw the island with her own two eyes - no tricks, no illusions.

“Do you see it?” she asked, confused because the way Killian looked at the horizon spoke clearly that he saw the island as well.

“Aye - what, do you not?” Killian met her gaze, suddenly worried.

“No, yes, I see it. I just, I thought you had to look through the spyglass to see it.”

Killian thought of it for a second, then gave a small shrug. “Perhaps it’s enough if only one on the vessel looks through the spyglass.”

She nodded, satisfied with his answer. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the island again; just to be sure it was still there. It was just... it was unbelievable.

“We found Neverland,” she whispered, as if to assure herself that her eyes weren’t lying to her. Louder, she repeated it, “Killian, we found Neverland!”

A grin threatened to split her lips, still cracked from the cold. Killian wore a matching grin on his face. “That we did, Swan.”

Both broke into a chuckle, still not sure whether to believe their eyes or not. Emma felt that pull again, to reach for Killian and throw her arms around him. To hold him close and let the laughter tumble out of them as they realized - fully realized - that Neverland was _real_.

She didn’t though. Instead, she let the blanket fall off her shoulders. With the rising sun, it seemed the cold had disappeared. In fact, Emma felt like she would melt if she kept her jacket on for one more second. She took it off, along with her beanie, as Killian unbuttoned his own coat, commenting on the sudden warmth.

“I guess we’re definitely not in Norway anymore,” Emma said.

“Either that or we’ve lost our minds.”

“That’s probably more likely.”

They shared another grin, and Killian held his hand out towards the steering wheel. “Would you like the honours, love?”

She was about to take the wheel again when she realized the sudden warmth brought another factor with it. She looked up at the sails and sure enough -

“There’s no wind.”

Killian seemed to have realized it on his own as well.

“Fortunately for us, there’s an outboard engine for this boat. It’s not the best, but it should do the job.”

Killian went to open a larger compartment in the boat, and Emma helped him settle the engine in its place. Killian took over the wheel after the engine had roared to life and Emma tried to judge the distance to the island. About five miles? She couldn’t be sure.

After a while though, Emma was almost a hundred percent sure that the distance hadn’t changed.

“Is it just me, or are we not getting any closer to the bloody island?” Killian asked, voicing her exact concern.

“No, it’s not just you.”

Emma heard him mutter “bloody hell”, but he didn’t give up. Kept sailing straight towards the island - and never got any closer.

A few minutes more, and the engine started tutting. Before long, it died out.

Emma wanted to scream. The island was _right_ there - it shouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to sail up to the shore. What the hell was going on?

“Are you sure we did everything right?” she asked. “There’s not some other object we need or some stupid ritual we need to preform? We don’t have to wait for Peter Pan to come and get us? Or Tinker Bell maybe?” She was beyond frustrated - and Killian was too.

“No, we’ve done everything right - there are no more objects according to the legends, nothing else that needs to be done.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Swan!” He didn’t exactly shout, but Emma couldn’t describe it any other way than a growl. Why was he being angry with her? Okay, maybe she didn’t need to sound so doubtful of him, but what else could she do? Clearly, they were missing something.

Emma dropped to sit on the planks, folding her legs underneath each other, all but glaring at the island on the horizon.

Killian dropped to sit beside her. She knew he wasn’t angry at her, just as he knew she didn’t doubt him. Both were just entirely too tired to deal with this.

A strong drink would have been wonderful right then. Too bad they’d already drunken all of the rum.

“Perhaps we’re meant to swim?” Killian suggested as a last hopeless resort.

“I don’t think it would help much.”

“Probably not... We’re missing something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know me too well by now to expect things would be easy.... but hey, Neverland exists!! And Emma Swan is as good as ever at denying her feelings, haha :))
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of this tale!! I've loved reading your comments and especially your ideas on what Emma and Killian have to do in order to finally reach Neverland - and now the wait is over! :))) enjoy!

Emma glared at the distant island. With her legs folded beneath each other, her right elbow resting on her knee so her hand could support her head, she almost felt like crying - almost. The bigger part of her wanted to yell across the water, frustrated with Neverland and everything about it.

It was just so infuriating; to be so close, but forced to stop right before the finish line. Emma hated giving up. Hated admitting defeat. This island, with its ridiculous magic and tropical-looking trees, it wasn’t going to get the best of her. Not without a fight.

“It’s trying to trick us,” she said. “You didn’t look through the spyglass, but you can still see it. Maybe you _do_ need to look through the spyglass though, if you want to actually get there.”

The spyglass rested on Emma’s lap. She handed it to Killian, and he looked through it without any objections.

No sudden gust of wind appeared. The engine didn’t magically restart. Killian even stood up and tried bringing the engine back to life, but to no avail.

“Good idea-”

“Just didn’t work,” Emma finished for him.

When Killian rejoined her on the planks, he handed her a water bottle from their backpack. “Afraid it’s not the most enjoyable of drinks, but it’s worth staying hydrated in this heat.”

The sun had risen above the horizon, moving eerily quickly across the sky. Emma accepted the water bottle with a thanks, chugging down a few gulps. Killian was right; getting dehydrated wouldn’t help anything, and she could already feel her head thumping. Or maybe that was just the lack of sleep.

A little while later, her bottle almost empty and the sun high in the sky, Killian spoke again.

“I’ve always found it calming - the horizon. Soothed me better than any rum ever could, but regrettably, you can’t carry the sea in a bottle everywhere you go.”

Emma lifted the corner of her mouth in a slight smile. She remembered leaving a foster family in the middle of the night, jumping on a bus to go anywhere but there - and had ended up at the sea. It had just been her and the waves, starlight above, and sand between her toes as she sat on the beach. She’d been chilly, but she’d hardly noticed when everything felt so peaceful for once.

So Emma knew exactly what Killian meant, how the sea could soothe your worries, just for a minute at least. If only she weren’t stuck on it now, unable to reach that damned horizon.

“Guess that’s why you bought a ship, huh?”

Killian chuckled. “Aye - _The Jolly_ ’s been a better home than any house I could imagine.”

“ _The Jolly_?” Emma repeated. “As in _The Jolly Roger_? Please don’t tell me you named your ship after Captain Hook’s.”

“Is there something so wrong in that?”

He sounded so defensive, Emma couldn’t help but smirk. “No, not at all. Hey, maybe that’s our problem - we should’ve taken your ship because Neverland can only be reached by a real pirate ship.”

“Bad form to tease a man about his ship, Swan.”

“Only teasing you about the name, _Hook_.”

“What, do you not have any childhood fairy tales that somehow stuck with you?”

Emma didn’t need to think long about that. The Princess Bride had always been her favourite film, but during her time at foster homes or group homes where films weren’t allowed, a certain series of books had always been her trusted companion.

“I guess I always liked Harry Potter,” Emma shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’ve named my car after the golden snitch though.”

“But I imagine you’ve dreamt of going to Hogwarts from time to time.”

“Every kid does that.” Of course, he caught what she wasn’t saying. She’d been an orphan, stuck in lousy foster homes much like Harry. Dreaming of going to Hogwarts had been much more than a small wish.

She could have sworn the sun had only risen an hour ago, but already it began to sink towards the sea again. Emma didn’t feel that warm any more, but she drank the rest of her water, if only to have an excuse not to say anything.

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

It was a simple question, but Emma knew why he asked. He knew she hadn’t been adopted as a baby, or even as a toddler. It was a simple question, giving Emma a chance to answer and talk more about her childhood or just give him a number and leave it at that.

“Sixteen.”

Killian nodded curtly, asking no further questions. Perhaps that was the very reason Emma felt like telling him more.

“I was found on the side of the road in a baby blanket with my name on it - grew up in the foster system, back and forth through homes, never staying in one for more than a year.” She gave him the facts, straightforward. “So yeah, I’d dream about going to Hogwarts or finding out my life was some fairy tale. Discover my family had to leave me to save the world or something. But that never happened, did it? I’m just lucky Ingrid decided to keep me around. She’s all the family I’ll ever need in the end.”

She stopped there, not one to tell big tragic back-stories. Besides, Killian had already heard most of it by now. She didn’t need to say much more to know he understood.

Emma stared at the ripples in the sea, unaware of the way Killian looked at her. He wanted to say something, wanted to curl his arm around her and tuck her into his side. Not out of pity, on the contrary in fact - because he admired her so bloody much.

Instead, he turned to look at the ripples as well.

His eyes widened in realization.

“Bloody hell, Swan, that’s it!”

Emma looked at him, her face resembling a question mark. “What’s what?”

“Family!” he explained. “Emma, look - those ripples weren’t there before. There was no wind, no movement at all, but now the sea’s begun to stir.”

She seemed to understand a bit, but still looked rather questioning. “And what does family have to do with that?”

“In the tales, Neverland was always a place children forgot about their parents, their family, the life they’d left behind - at least for a little while. But they’ve got it all wrong; Neverland isn’t a place you go to forget your family, it’s a place you go to _remember_ them.”

Killian stood to find his satchel, searching for Liam’s letters and opening one in particular.

“Look - amongst all the gibberish, Liam wrote the very last clue.” He crouched next to Emma, pointing at the two simple words Liam had used - amongst many others- to described Neverland: _It’s family._

Emma looked from the letter to Killian. “So, what, you talk about your family and the sea starts moving?”

“Aye, thinking surely isn’t enough, for I’ve been thinking about Liam throughout every minute.”

“Uh, then let’s talk about family. I guess.”

Killian’s satchel caught her eye. Before he could respond with more than a scratch behind his ear, Emma had a better idea - even if it made her question her sanity. “The lullaby - you said it was one your mother used to sing to you, right?”

Killian nodded, already seeing where Emma was headed.

“Liam didn’t write that lullaby in one of those letters for nothing - he didn’t leave behind his music box for nothing. Killian...” she paused, looking as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say, “Maybe you need to sing it to reach that island.”

“Does sound like something from a fairy tale,” Killian muttered. He straightened his legs again, standing up.

So... he really had to sing for them to get to Neverland? Well, awkward as it seemed with Emma sitting there, looking up at him, Killian could have thought of worse things to do.

He closed his eyes, letting the words of the lullaby find their way to his tongue. He knew it by heart, but hadn’t sung it in years. Standing there now, the sun setting on a silent sea, he was almost afraid to do so.

_This had better work_ , he thought, licking his lips before opening his mouth.

_In a sea of grey and blue,_  
_I’ll find my way to you,_  
_and I will make a bed of foam and sand.  
_ _I’ll be there to hold your hand_

Killian’s voice was soft, barely carrying through the air. With his eyes closed, he could see his mother before him, a faint ghost of a memory.

He opened his eyes when he felt the first gust of wind.

_You’re a soul meant to be free,_  
_your home is with the sea,_  
_we’ll be safe there in the crashing storms,  
_ _and I’ll hold you in my arms_

He dared to glance at Emma, reflecting her smile as soon as he saw it. The wind picked up, taking hold of the sails.

_Close your eyes and taste the salt,_  
_rest your head from thoughts of fault._  
_Through the dreams of endless worlds to roam,  
_ _together we’ll find home_

Swiftly, through no other possible means than magic, the boat made its way through the water to the island. Killian felt as if he were soaring, the boat only gracing the surface of the sea. The three verses of the lullaby faded into a low hum, but the boat carried on through the water.

His smile broke into a laugh. It was insane - absolutely brilliant - but insane; he had sung his way to Neverland.

When Emma’s laughter joined his own, Killian could have sworn his heart started soaring as well. No sound could ever compete with that of her laughter. No moment in his life had ever felt this magical. Except, perhaps, when she’d kissed him the night before.

(He’d never tell her that though, knowing she’d call him a miserable sap.)

(The thought only made him smile more.)

* * *

Of all the things Emma had done, nothing would ever be as weird as sailing towards Neverland, the wind in their sails powered by song. And _there_ was a sentence she never thought she’d say.

Within minutes, their boat reached the beach, gliding effortlessly through the sand until it came to a gentle stop. No sudden halt, no jerking movements.

Emma was either dreaming or dead. Nothing real could ever feel like that.

Too amazed by the magic of the island, neither she nor Killian noticed the small group of people gathered near the jungle at the edge of the beach; not until they stepped off the boat and looked to their right.

Emma’s first thought was that her dream had turned into a nightmare.

One man stepped forth, crossing the beach towards Emma and Killian. He wore different clothes than the rest of the people; a simple white dress shirt and dark pants. He had a somewhat stocky build, light skin and dark sandy hair, curled and tangled in the wind. Emma knew who he was from the moment she saw his eyes.

_Liam_.

“We saw your boat and thought we’d come and welcome you. I must say though, little brother, it took you quite a while to get here.”

Killian stared at him, eyes wide and jaw slack, as if he couldn’t really believe what he saw.

Emma couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen his brother for nine years - had almost thought him dead - and here he was, right in front of them. Looking healthy as ever. He spoke clearly, his accent resembling Killian’s. From what she’d heard of the supposed rambling crazy man, Liam wasn’t exactly what she had expected.

Killian quickly found his bearings again, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes at Liam.

“You mean _younger_ brother. And bloody hell, who are you to talk about _quite a while_? I’m not the one who disappeared for nine years leaving nothing but idiotic clues. Not even an explanation.”

If Killian had only been angry, Emma would’ve been able to handle it. But the crack in his voice echoed a long-buried pain that made Emma turn her head away. She shouldn’t be there. She had no right to witness something like this. An intruder, that’s what she was.

“I’m sorry, Killian.” Liam’s words were genuine, but Emma understood why they weren’t quite enough for Killian.

“You’re sorry? Liam, you let me think you were dead. For years you didn’t bother to contact me, and when you did, it was only to write about Neverland - as if I care about this bloody island!”

“I wasn’t in my right mind, you know that, Killian -”

“But you were lucid enough to make a little life for yourself in Norway,” Killian cut off his brother.

“Yes, but only with Elsa’s help-”

“And you don’t think I could’ve helped?”

Liam paused before answering, staying calm throughout Killian’s anger.

“I didn’t want to burden you, brother - no, let me finish,” he held his hand up to stop Killian from cutting him off again. “When father died, you became my responsibility, Killian. Perhaps not in legal terms, but even before father’s death, your happiness and chance for a good life rested on me. I didn’t want you to ever think you weren’t good enough, Killian. I watched you grow and work hard at everything you did, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. But when I came back from my journey nine years ago, I couldn’t stand letting you see how broken I’d become; a shell of a man, just like father. I had strived to be your role model throughout all of your life; I couldn’t bear failing you like that.

“I see now, Killian, how wrong I was to leave without telling you everything, but I thought it was for the best. And the longer I stayed away, the less I thought you’d want to see me again. Elsa tried to get me to call you ever since she learned I had a brother, but you see; I couldn’t. I was scared, Killian. I was a coward, and I let you down, and for that I truly am sorry.”

Emma watched Killian’s jaw tick, tears brimming in his eyes. She almost felt like crying herself, thinking of those tv-shows Mary Margaret loved to watch, where people were reunited with their long-lost family. It seemed she’d caught the live version.

“You succeeded, you know,” Killian said, his voice small. “You were always my hero… and I’m beginning to accept that even heroes are allowed their flaws. Even cowardice.”

Emma saw the meaning of Killian’s words sink in as the tension from Liam’s shoulders lessened. A smile started to spread from the corner of his mouth, and before Emma could turn to gauge Killian’s thoughts, Killian surged forward to bring his arms around Liam in a tight hug. Liam returned it without hesitating, his grasp around Killian just as firm.

Emma wanted to look away, feeling awkward just standing there and looking at them, but for a moment she allowed herself to smile. When she couldn’t bear it anymore, her eyes flickered towards the waves now lapping at the shore. She wasn’t sure she’d be as quick as Killian to forgive her parents if she ever found them. Forgiveness in general had never been her strong suit. Then again, she’d forgiven Killian for all his lies, hadn’t she?

She glanced at the brothers again, Mary Margaret’s words coming to mind; forgiveness itself might be the hardest thing ever, but in the end, it will rarely make your life harder to live.

“You could have been less of a pain in the ass about leaving that trail though,” Killian said as they pulled away from each other.

Liam only laughed. “I _had_ to make it hard, didn’t I? And if you managed to figure it out, it can’t have been too difficult anyways.”

“I doubt I’d have figured it all out without Swan here.”

Emma tensed as both brothers turned to look at her. She felt a blush creeping up, and hoped to god she didn’t look as red as she felt.

“Ah right, I think it’s about time you properly introduced me to the lovely lady, little brother” Liam smiled, holding his hand out for Emma’s.

“I’m Emma Swan,” she introduced herself as she took his hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Emma,” Liam said, and gave her hand a small peck. She should have known he’d be a charmer just like his brother.

“Nice to finally meet you too.” Knowing that she’d been searching for this man for the past week because she wanted him to sign some documents was almost laughable. And it was impossible now, knowing that the documents were in her suitcase in Kristoff’s car, somewhere on the west-coast of Norway. And she really didn’t give a damn about them anymore anyway.

“Now what prompted you to help my brother find Neverland? Surely it couldn’t have been for my - or his - benefit.”

Emma wondered how to explain everything with a few words.

“Actually, it’s kind of a long story.”

“You’ll have to share it with me some time,” Liam smiled.

“Perhaps when there’s not a rather large group of strangers staring at us,” Killian cut in, bringing Emma’s attention back to the group of people that, indeed, were still standing on the beach, looking at them. She felt kind of relieved though - at least she hadn’t been the only one staring at a private moment between brothers unfold.

“Those would be the people of Neverland,” Liam explained.

One of the women stepped forth when she saw Emma, Killian and Liam had turned towards them. She crossed the sand, and Liam met her halfway, Emma and Killian just behind.

“Tiger Lily, this is my little brother Killian and Miss Emma Swan.”

The woman - Tiger Lily - nodded her greeting, keeping her arms folded a few inches in front of her. She reminded Emma of a Native American, as did the rest of the people staying near the shade of the trees. Weren’t the inhabitants of Neverland Indians too in the stories? And wasn’t there a Tiger Lily involved as well? Perhaps this Neverland wasn’t as different as the one she knew as a child.

Emma and Killian returned Tiger Lily’s nod, both unsure of how to proceed.

“Pleased to meet you, Killian - Liam has spoken of you several times. I’m not certain I’ve heard your name before, Emma, but be sure, you’re just as welcome to our island,” Tiger Lily smiled. “I believe you call it Neverland.”

“That we do,” Killian answered, finding his charming self and smiling back at Tiger Lily. Emma saw right through it though - whenever Killian wasn’t sure what to do or how to act, he’d try and flirt his way out of it.

“A strange name if you ask me.”

“What do you call it?” Emma asked.

Tiger Lily looked at her and smiled again, a fiery glint in her eye. “Home.”

Well, that was a practical name at least.

“Our ancestors discovered the island centuries ago, after sailing on open seas for months on end, unknowingly having entered a certain pocket of the world where realms meet once every few centuries,” Liam said. “They called the island Neverland, as they’d thought they’d never see land again.”

“Clever,” Killian said, dryly. “They were the ones who forged the objects, aye?”

“Yes - and founded _The Brothers Jones_ which passed on through the family along with the stories of their adventures.”

“The objects you speak of were forged here actually,” Tiger Lily said. “A gift from my ancestors to yours, to help them find their way back home. It seems though, that they work both ways, and in the wrong hands, those objects pose quite the danger to the peace of our island.”

“Which is why our uncle and I decided it was best I hid them properly once we discovered the stories about them were true,” Liam elaborated.

“And I’m guessing once you’ve already been here, you don’t need them to come here again, or else you wouldn’t be here,” Emma said, looking at Liam.

“Precisely.”

“However you have the objects with you now, I trust,” Tiger Lily surmised.

“Aye, they’re in my satchel,” Killian nodded towards the boat.

“Perfect. Then we can finally get around to healing your brother properly.”

_What?_

Liam chuckled at Tiger Lily’s bluntness - or perhaps at Emma’s and Killian’s perplexed looks. Before either could ask, Liam answered their question.

“You’ve met Elsa, I presume, or talked to her at least.”

Both Emma and Killian nodded.

“I believe she told you the nature of my illness and this ring that kept me alive?”

They nodded again.

“Well, the ring was meant to keep the poison of the nightshade from reaching my heart, but it wasn’t as efficient as we could have hoped. I lost part of my sanity and with time, the magic of the ring wore off. As long as I’m here in Neverland, I’ll live. But if I want to leave this island alive, they need the magic in those objects to create the proper cure.”

“In the process, the objects and their purpose will be destroyed, meaning that no one - not even you - can return to Neverland,” Tiger Lily added.

“A small price to pay for my brother’s life.”

“It’s probably for the best actually,” Emma said, thinking of how Gold wouldn’t ever be able to fulfill his plans of turning Neverland into his own personal stock.

“Then let’s not waste more time,” Tiger Lily said.

Killian went to get his satchel from the boat. They left their coats behind - traversing Neverland in clothes meant for Norway did not sound ideal.

While the rest of the inhabitants of Neverland that had come to see Emma and Killian turned towards their village, Tiger Lily led them to a place she called Dark Hallow. A pretty ominous name, if you asked Emma.

Neverland was mostly one big jungle. Liam and Tiger Lily said there were open fields on the other side of the island, and cliffs with several hidden caves, both large and small.

Killian asked a lot of questions about the island. Emma preferred to stay silent, soaking everything in. She was still half-convinced she was dreaming. Something about the heat made her feel dizzy, and the further they ventured into the jungle, the more Emma’s head started to hurt.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asked, sagging behind with Emma, just enough so that Liam and Tiger Lily wouldn’t listen in. Emma was surprised that Killian would even take the time to talk to her, what with finally having found his brother after nine years. You’d think he’d rather talk to Liam than her.

“I’m fine. It’s just all a bit much,” Emma added, knowing Killian wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple ‘I’m fine’.

He handed her a water bottle from his satchel. “Aye, it’s a lot to take in. At least they’re a peaceful folk.”

Emma drank several mouthfuls and handed the bottle back to Killian. He drank a few mouthfuls as well.

Killian was right - they _were_ a peaceful folk. Emma didn’t make a habit of trusting people easily, especially not in situations like this, but well, she’d never actually been in a situation like _this_. And though she stayed wary, she didn’t really think there was a reason to worry. She just didn’t want to be caught with her guard down.

Ahead of them, Lily hacked her way through a couple of overgrown bushes. She was always sure to point out which plants to avoid touching, lest they ended up with another person to heal.

“How are you holding up?” Emma asked Killian in return.

“If I’m entirely honest, I could do with a glass of rum right about now.”

“I don’t blame you there.”

They continued to walk in a companionable silence, the path soon becoming too narrow for them to walk alongside each other. Killian let Emma pass first. She almost wished he hadn’t though; it irked her to have him walk behind her, him able to see her but not the other way around. Not that Killian made her uncomfortable, on the contrary actually. She had gotten _too_ comfortable around him, and not having him in her line of sight only made her think about him more.

“I was meaning to ask actually,” Liam turned around, mainly addressing Killian, “how is our dear uncle? I hope he wasn’t so austere he denied helping you find the objects.”

Emma all but froze mid-step. She didn’t need to look at Killian to know he probably felt the same uncertainty about how to proceed.

In the end, Liam’s question led to Killian explaining how Barrie’s death meant Liam now owned the family business - and that’s where Emma entered the picture, explaining how she was actually the lawyer working on getting the business sold. Not that she intended to follow through on that anymore though, she quickly added.

Liam clearly had more questions, but Tiger Lily interrupted before he could ask them.

They had reached Dark Hollow.

Emma understood the name now. The trees were so thick and all but knit together, letting no sun- or starlight pass through their leaves. The ground was a bumpy weave of roots and Emma had to take care not to stumble and fall.

Killian had his flashlight, and Tiger Lily had somehow procured a torch, lighting the way to a small clearing, that wasn’t really a clearing at all. Branches overhead still blocked the view to the sky. A few vines hung from the trees, and roots still covered the entire forest floor. It wasn’t as much a clearing as, well, a hollow.

“Why here?” Emma asked. “I mean, it looks more like a place you’d murder someone, not cure them.”

Tiger Lily chuckled. As if things weren’t creepy enough. Emma readied herself to make a run for it soon, if need be.

“We call it the darkest place on the island.” _Yeah, you’re only proving my point by saying that,_ Emma thought. “And you’re right; it doesn’t seem the obvious place to heal someone. Usually, one would think of a field under the stars or a bed of flowers. But this place has its own charms, you’ll see.”

Tiger Lily turned to Killian, asking for the objects. He handed them over to her and she placed them on a tree stump in the middle of the hollow. At her request, Killian turned off his flashlight and the three of them stood around the stump, Liam placing his hand on the compass. Where Emma and Killian were rather suspicious and wary of the whole ordeal, Liam seemed perfectly calm. As if he knew what was about to happen.

“I can promise this will be quick, but I’m not sure it will be painless,” Tiger Lily said, and before Emma could say something or even think about getting the hell out of there, Tiger Lily thrust her torch towards the sky.

The leaves parted above them. Moonlight danced through, like tiny particles spinning down towards them, and for a second, Emma was spellbound. Her eyes met Killian’s, seeing the same daze that she felt.

And she saw his panic the moment she felt the pain sear through her own body. As if something was being ripped from her - or no, _she_ was being ripped from something else. The ground shook beneath her and she struggled to breathe.

On instinct, she reached for Killian’s hand as he reached for hers.

Their fingers almost touching, Emma blinked.

And when she opened her eyes again, the light was gone. The trees had vanished and neither Killian nor Liam stood beside her anymore. The ground still rocked beneath her - except there was no ground. Only planks.

She was on the boat again.

Clouds covered the night sky, and a brisk wind hit her face. Only then did she notice that she was wearing her coat again, her beanie as well.

Emma had a strong feeling she wasn’t in Neverland anymore. But where were -

“Bloody hell.”

Emma whirled around to see Killian standing by the helm.

She’d never felt so relieved in her entire life.

* * *

Killian went from seeing a blinding white light to crisp white sails, to the dark sea around him.

And then there was Emma.

Swan whirled around, eyes wide. Bloody hell, she was a sight to behold. He couldn’t block out the image of her panicking when the pain that took hold of him must have taken hold of her too, but it washed away when he saw that she was alright. _She was alright_.

She was wearing her beanie again, he noticed. And her coat. And he was wearing his own, come to think of it.

Emma looked everything from confused to relieved and he felt much the same. But they were out of Neverland. They-

No.

“Where’s Liam?” The relief he felt faded into a new bout of panic.

Emma opened her mouth as a hand clasped his shoulder. “Worry not, little brother. I’m right here.”

Killian turned around to meet Liam’s grin. Once again, relief washed over him, accompanied by immense joy. Killian wrapped his brother in a hug, both of them laughing as they finally started to calm down.

Killian turned to Emma again, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in a hug as well and not let go for hours. She was pointing at the water though.

Or rather, the harbour.

“Looks like we’re back,” Emma said.

“Aye.”

Between the three of them, getting the boat docked - even in the dark of night - was no problem. Liam spotted the boat he’d sailed to Neverland with a month ago, and Killian felt relief on the behalf of Kristoff’s cousins.

Everything had turned out just the way it was meant to. Everything was going to be okay.

They weren’t sure where to go, but anywhere with food, some warmth, and a couple of beds sounded heavenly. Liam mentioned calling Elsa to tell her they were back, alive and well.

They never made it to the end of the pier though.

Blocking their way stood three people, one of which Killian had hoped never to see again.

Gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist another cliffhanger :D
> 
> hope you liked the chapter!!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your amazing response to this story!! I'm so happy you like it, and well, it's time for the start of the end now!! :')
> 
> First though, a huge thank you to the people I've worked with during this insane project: [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/), [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> Also: there's a bit of violence in this chapter - nothing too severe - but just so you know :)

“Hello, dearies.”

Even if Emma hadn’t recognized his face from the papers, the way Killian’s hands curled into fists would’ve been enough for her to know who he was.

Mr. Gold - her firm’s client.

Zelena and Smee stood on each side of him. While Smee had the decency to look ashamed, Zelena looked positively ecstatic. Like a child being told Christmas had come early - though children didn’t usually look so psychopathic.

“Gold,” Emma said, more of an acknowledgment than a greeting as her eyes narrowed at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You must be Emma Swan,” Gold said, ignoring her question. “The lawyer Miss Mills sent to deal with the transaction of _The Brothers Jones_.”

Emma didn’t bother to answer.

“I must say, Miss Swan, you’ve done an impeccably, _terrible_ job of it.”

“Coming from you, I’d say that’s a compliment.”

Gold only smiled; an ugly sneer that made Emma’s hands curl into fists like Killian’s. “Oh, I’d hoped you’d be better than that, Miss Swan. You’ve clearly let yourself be deluded by Mr. Jones here,” his eyes landed on Killian. “A pleasure to finally see you again - you left so suddenly after my wife’s death, I was worried something had upset you.”

Gold sounded anything but sincere - in fact, he seemed to take pleasure in the way Killian had to restrain himself from punching the slimy grin off of Gold’s face.

“You’re a bloody monster.”

Gold only laughed. “Oh, we both know I’m not as bad as that, Jones. I’m but a humble businessman.” Gold turned towards Liam. “And I suppose _you_ are the man I’ve been looking to deal with. Liam Jones - good to see you up and about.”

“Can’t say I return the sentiment.”

“Oh, where are your manners?” Gold shook his head at the three them.

Finally, Killian couldn’t take any more of Gold’s bullshit.

“You’re not getting to Neverland, Gold. The objects have been destroyed.”

“You’re too late,” Emma said.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Swan” he all but giggled. “I don’t need the objects to get to Neverland. Did you really think I’d let Smee lose the spyglass to you if it were so?”

“Yeah, and did you really think I’d let you thieves steal my car just like that?” Zelena added.

“You see, I learnt a thing or two digging through Barrie Jones’ home,” Gold said. “And one doesn’t need the objects to get to Neverland if they’ve already been there - and I believe you just have. So I’m not too late at all, in fact, I’m right in time for the fun to start.”

It was Killian’s turn to laugh. The sound sent shivers down Emma’s spine, a malice there so unlike the Killian she’d come to know. “What, you mean to use _us_ to get to Neverland? Even if that worked, crocodile, how would you ever make us board a boat with _you_?”

Gold smirked again, and Emma felt a prickling at the back of her neck. “I don’t think that will pose much of a problem.”

Emma heard the footsteps, felt the presence behind her. But she was too late in turning around.

A cloth pressed against her mouth, and Emma fought to wrestle free from the arm pinning her against the body behind her. She tried not to breathe in. Tried to stab her attacker with her elbows, to break free of his grasp. She could hear Killian and Liam struggling beside her too.

Her mind raced, instincts taking over. She knew from some program she’d seen on TV once, that chloroform usually took about five minutes before it knocked someone out. She still had five minutes... but maybe the substance on the cloth wasn’t really chloroform, but something stronger. Emma struggled, but slowly the strength faded from her arms, her eyelids becoming too heavy.

* * *

Her head was spinning. If she went on like this, jerking back and forth in the darkness, she’d be sick. She just had to open her eyes…

Emma blinked, slowly waking up as the world around her stopped spinning. Her hands were tied behind her back and she sat on the deck of a sailboat, leaning against the railing. She turned to see Killian and Liam on each side of her, hands tied as well.

“And at last, Miss Swan joins the lucid!” Gold greeted her, standing near the helm. One of the men that must have assaulted them steered the ship, a big guy with a permanent scowl. “You know, you should have left for New York when you had the chance.”

“And miss seeing you fail?” Emma glared at him. Beside her, she felt both Joneses subtly working on their bindings. They’d obviously woken before her and begun the process of freeing themselves at once.

“Why is it you three are so sure I’m going to fail?”

“Because we told you, you bloody imbecile, it’s not possible to get to Neverland anymore,” Killian sneered.

“Not even for those who have been there before,” Liam added.

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

“Boss!” the guy manning the helm yelled. “I think there’s a storm heading our way!”  Emma looked around, noticing that neither Zelena nor Smee had been brought aboard. Only Gold’s three brutish lackeys. He was right though - there _was_ a storm heading their way. A patch of darker clouds raged towards them, thunder rumbling across the sea.

Emma had a strong feeling that storm wasn’t entirely natural. It moved way too quickly.

A flash of lightning lit the sky, blinding Emma for a second.

Killian took his chance. Finally free of the ropes, he leapt to his feet, lunging towards Gold.

“Killian!” Liam yelled, breaking free from his bonds as well. He surged forward, trying to stop his brother from punching Gold or worse. But one of the brutes grabbed at Liam before he could do anything, and another rammed into Killian.

Emma cursed her bonds. How had the other two managed to get free so easily? She wiggled a bit, reaching for the knot with her fingers...

Bingo. Whoever had tied their knots hadn’t done a good job of it. Not that Emma could complain.

The ship rocked, tossed between waves. Emma stumbled to keep upright. She wasn’t the only one not used to being on sea though; Gold’s lackeys stumbled as well, and Killian and Liam took their advantage of that.

Emma joined the fight, slamming her fist against one of the brutes’ jaw right after Killian had punched him in the stomach. Somehow, Killian found the time to grin at her. And somehow, her stomach found the time to flip. But that could have been the storm jostling the ship.

The brute didn’t go down, though her punch had certainly hurt him. He lunged towards her, just as the ship was tossed to the side. Both of them fell, Emma hitting her head against the planks. She thought she heard Killian calling her name, but looking at him, he was busy dealing with the second guy - and Gold. Apparently the cane Gold used to walk with was more of an accessory - and in this case, a weapon.

The guy that had fallen with Emma grabbed her leg as she tried to stand. She kneed him with her other leg, hitting him right below his chin.

The storm had almost engulfed them, a new flash of lightning blinding them all.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma thought she saw Liam fall over the side of the ship. She couldn’t tell if he’d been pushed, couldn’t tell if what she’d seen was actually real.

But she heard Killian calling for his brother, the sound like a knife tearing through her side.

Lightning struck again, and Emma struggled to get up.

Liam... he couldn’t have fallen overboard. He _couldn’t_.

Her head hurt, possibly the blow she’d gotten from falling down finally searing through. Killian called for Liam again.

And for the third time in just one hour, everything went black.

* * *

The first thing she noticed was that the planks beneath her had crumbled into sand.

The second thing was that she could hear seagulls.

Emma opened her eyes, groaning as she felt her head throbbing, and the sunlight was _not_ helping against the pain. As a cloudy sky came to view above her and the water lapping at the shore beside her, Emma slowly remembered what had happened in order for her to be lying on a beach somewhere.

And then it hit her all at once.

Killian, the ship, Gold, the storm, the fighting - and Liam.

Emma jolted upright, her head growing less happy with her by the second. She blinked a couple of times, trying to understand exactly _where_ she’d ended up. No ships were out on the water, no harbour in sight. There was rough sand and cliffs and a chilly wind, but not as chilly as she remembered it being in Norway...

Worst of all, she seemed to be entirely alone.

Emma looked over her shoulder, desperately hoping to see someone behind her.

A dark figure lay by the shore, right where the water met the sand, reaching his ankles. About twenty yards stretched between him and her, but she recognized the black coat and the dark tousled hair. Or maybe she just really hoped it was him.

Killian.

Emma fumbled to get on her feet. As soon as she was up though, she felt clearer than ever. All the fog was gone and she could ignore the growing headache and the pain in her shoulder. None of that mattered. She just needed to get to Killian.

Running in the sand wasn’t easy, and she didn’t imagine she looked pretty doing it, sand all over her, and panting. She couldn’t care less. Not when Killian didn’t seem to be waking. He was soaked from top to bottom, having lain by the water for who knows how long. He looked so pale, so lifeless...

“Killian!” She fell at his side, immediately grabbing his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. “Killian, wake up! Killian!” He didn’t respond and she shook him harder, wishing she could force him to wake up. He couldn’t leave her, he couldn’t be gone... “Killian, please, come back to me.”

His hair stuck to his forehead and Emma itched to brush it away. Instead, her eyes fell on his lips, almost as pale as his skin.

She knew what to do. She had to get him breathing, one way or another. Emma bowed down towards Killian’s mouth -

And in that very moment, his eyes flew open. Emma barely realized he’d already woken until he raised his head on instinct, their foreheads knocking together.

Emma jolted back in pain, rubbing her forehead where it had bumped against his, as Killian emitted a well-deserved “bloody hell”.

While both of them took a moment for the immediate pain to fade away, Killian came to his bearings. He rose, sitting upright with his feet still in the water, Emma sitting on her knees beside him.

She saw it the moment realization hit him.

“Swan.”

Never had her name sounded that good whispered from someone’s lips.

Emma surged forward before she could talk herself out of it. She threw her arms around Killian, burying her face where his shoulder met his neck, not caring that his coat was wet.

He took but a millisecond to wrap his own arms around her, nestling his nose in her hair.

Nothing had ever felt so right in Emma’s life. She wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him just how glad she was that he was there, that he was alive. But the words stuck in her throat. She tried, but they just wouldn’t come out. So she hugged him tighter, hoping he understood what she couldn’t bring herself to say.

From the way his own arms tightened around her, his hand tangling itself in her hair, she’d say he knew exactly what she meant.

He pulled away, but didn’t stop holding her. His hand went to brush a lock of hair from her face, his eyes scanning over her to check that she was alright before meeting her gaze.

“You’re unharmed?”

Emma nodded, only then realizing how ragged both of their breaths were. “Yeah, I’m fine... I...” She trailed off, forgetting what it was she wanted to say as she simply took him in. Her eyes flickered to his lips and she found herself wanting to close the gap so much it hurt, but she held back.

She couldn’t do it, not when she remembered how his brother had fallen off the ship during the storm. “Liam,” she said, her mouth dry. “I saw him fall overboard-”

Killian tensed beneath her fingertips. “Is he here?”

Emma wished she could say yes for sure. “I haven’t seen him. But I haven’t checked. Come-”

They helped each other stand up. Emma scanned the rest of the beach, hand clasped in Killian’s. Neither thought to let go of the other.

Up ahead, she saw four figures lying near the cliffs, but none of them were Liam. At least Gold and his lackeys hadn’t woken up yet. Emma looked further ahead and squeezed Killian’s hand when she saw a lone figure lying by the water, much like Killian had been.

Killian set off in a run immediately. Emma followed right behind him, both of them sprinting towards Liam.

They reached him within seconds. Killian knelt to shake Liam’s shoulders. Emma went to kneel on his other side, watching as Killian cried for his brother to wake up.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for Killian to finally get his brother back after all these years, only to lose him the very same day. Emma refused to believe it was so, refused to believe Liam wouldn’t wake up.

She checked for a pulse, hating every second of it. And just as she thought there was nothing there, a weak thrumming beat against her fingers.

Liam’s eyes opened.

* * *

He was alive. His brother was still alive. Tears fell from Killian’s face as he laughed, wrapping his brother in a hug to which Liam - the idiot that he was - had to say something smug and cheeky.

Killian’s smile only widened. He’d thought he’d lost his brother just when he’d found him, but he was wrong. He wasn’t going to lose Liam anytime soon.

“Where the blazes are we?” Liam asked when Killian finally pulled away. He hadn’t thought to wonder about their surroundings yet, but looking around, he was pretty sure they weren’t in Norway anymore. Bloody hell -

“I think we’re near Willesby.”

“Willesby?” Emma repeated.

“Aye, I think you’re right, brother,” Liam said, looking around. “This shore does look quite familiar.”

“But how the hell are we back in England?” Before anyone could answer Emma’s question, she shook her head. “Never mind - a lot of things have happened today that I’ll never be able to explain; this might as well be another one of those things.”

Killian chuckled. She was right after all.

“I’m just glad we didn’t make it to Neverland,” Killian said, looking back at Gold and his lackeys. Fortunately, none of them seemed to have regained consciousness yet. They’d have to do something about them before they did though. Killian wondered if calling the police would even help; he supposed there wasn’t much else they could do though. Gold had to be put behind bars, no matter how difficult it would be, no matter if it took years to win a case against him.

“But you’re okay, Liam?” Emma asked. “I thought I saw you fall overboard.”

Killian had seen it too; the image was still clear in his head, impossible to wash away.

“Actually,” Liam paused, “I jumped overboard.”

“What?” Killian and Emma exclaimed at the same time. Why the bloody hell would he have _jumped_ overboard?

“Tiger Lily didn’t tell you much about what would happen when she finally healed me, but she explained it all to me in great detail; the magic in the objects was needed to cure me, because only it would be strong enough to last outside the boundaries of Neverland. So once the objects were destroyed, the passage to Neverland from our world was destroyed with it. Except for the fact that the power transferred to me, purging the poison of the nightshade at last. It still lingers within me - the magic, not the poison. And so, if I had still been on the boat when that storm reached us, we wouldn’t be in Willesby now-”

“But in Neverland,” Killian finished. He understood, but he still glared at his brother. “You could have died, you know.”

“Yes, but did I?”

Killian all but sighed at Liam’s smug grin. He’d forgotten how much of an ass his brother could be.

* * *

Miraculously, the police arrived at the beach before Gold and his lackeys woke up. Even more miraculously, Emma discovered her phone still worked; even after all it had been through. She’d have to give the manufacturer a good review once she got the chance.

Emma knew running a case against Gold was going to be hard - especially when mentioning Neverland probably wouldn’t get them more than arched eyebrows and mocking laughs. But no matter what it took, Emma was going to see Gold behind bars. For now at least, they could get him and his lackeys arrested on the grounds of assault. And Emma had no other plans than to find a bed and sleep for the next couple of days.

One of the policewomen offered Killian, Liam and Emma a ride to the town which they gladly accepted. It was strange, being back in Willesby. Only a week had passed since she’d left, though it felt like years to Emma. And here she was, in a car with Liam Jones - the very man she’d set out to find.

However happy she was to have found him though - and yes, he was a charming guy - Liam wasn’t really the one she was most happy to have found.

As the older brother went into Granny’s diner, Killian turned around to notice Emma had stopped by the gate to the diner’s patio.

“Everything alright, Swan?”

The corners of her mouth ticked, thinking of how many times she’d heard him ask that over the past week. For once though, she could honestly say that she _was_ alright. More than alright actually.

Sure, part of her was absolutely terrified of what she was about to do, but the other part was there to calm her down.

“I’m good.”

“Then what’s going on?” Killian asked, coming down from the steps to the door and walking towards her. Spotting the grin that had started to spread on her face, the worry faded from his eyes.

“I just wanted to tell you something,” Emma said as Killian stopped right in front of her.

“Tell me what?” He smiled at her, and Emma saw something beyond the usual flirting in his eyes, something she wouldn’t dare name.

“I...” Emma tried to make the words form, but when he tilted his head, eyes sincere, letting her know she could tell him anything, and that damned smile of his growing wider, she just _couldn’t_. “... I want to thank you for this past week. I mean, you lied to me and hid a lot of truths that could have spared me a lot of time, but, well, I guess it wasn’t so bad after all. I mean, I kinda had fun actually.”

She wanted to kick herself for being such a coward. Sure, she meant every word she said, but she had meant to say more than that. She hoped he understood though, hoped he could tell from the way she was looking at him that she meant so much more with her words.

Killian’s smile lessened a bit, but Emma wasn’t sure if that was just her imagination. “I had fun too, Swan. And really, I’m the one who should be thanking you - I’d never have found Liam without you, wouldn’t even have made it to Valadilene.”

Emma smiled, though she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. And she knew he wasn’t entirely right; he would have found Liam’s drawings before long, and really, that was all she’d actually done. He could have left her behind once she’d showed them to him, but he hadn’t. Even when he hadn’t trusted her, he’d given her chance.

And it was about time she gave him - and herself - one too.

“Also...” she began, knowing that this time she wouldn’t chicken out. “Listen, I know I live in New York and you live here, or on your ship or whatever, and things haven’t really been ideal, but well, would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, for dinner or something,” she added, feeling shy yet still confident - an odd mixture, but somehow, Killian just made her feel like that. He also made her feel slightly anxious when he didn’t answer right away, though she did take pride in the shock on his face.

“Wait, shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?”

Emma huffed out a laugh. “I should’ve known you’d be old-fashioned, given you’re English and everything.”

“Throwing stereotypes at me, are you?” Before Emma could answer, Killian took a step closer towards her, and all but bowed to her as he answered her initial question. “I’ll happily accept on one condition; you let me plan the evening.”

“I know how to plan a date,” Emma said, almost offended.

“I’m sure you do, but I know this place better than you, love - I know just what to do.”

“Fine,” Emma relented. Not that she minded much, and he was right anyway. “Just no big adventurous plans, okay? I’ve had enough of those this past week.”

Killian chuckled. “Aye, well, I can’t promise things will ever be unadventurous with us together, love, but I’ll make sure to plan a quiet evening. No sailing out into storms or stealing artifacts from cathedrals.”

Emma smiled, and she knew right then, that even though the past week had been crazy and she was seriously sleep-deprived, it had been worth it. Trusting Killian had been worth it.

“Sounds great,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She didn’t need to speak much louder anyway, with him right in front of her. If she leaned forward just a little bit...

Killian’s eyes flickered towards her mouth. A warmth was already beginning to spread from her stomach to her fingertips, and Emma didn’t try to fight it.

She rose to meet his lips in a kiss, this time more gentle than it had been back in that cabin in Norway. There was no doubt, no uncertainty. Just her and him, wrapping their arms around each other.

She caressed the back of his neck with one hand, while the other pulled him closer by his shoulder. Lightly, she scraped the nape of his neck, loving the groan he emitted just as much as the feeling of his hand tangling in her hair.

Emma couldn’t get enough of him, pulling back for air and diving back in immediately.

She felt him grinning as her own lips stretched into a smile. Soon they were just standing there, holding each other close, foreheads resting against each other. She nuzzled his nose, unable to stop smiling. This was just it. It was the perfect moment, the kind she’d never thought she’d experience. And she didn’t care about the circumstances that had brought them here, all she knew was that she cared for Killian, and standing in his arms, she knew he cared for her just as much as she did him.

“You know,” she said, without moving an inch, “we should probably go in and help Liam before he gets too overcrowded with everyone wanting to congratulate him on being alive.”

Killian stayed right where he was, forehead against hers. “I think he can handle himself for a little while longer.”

He pressed his lips against hers again, and well, Emma had no reason to object.

She’d probably never get enough of him.

And nor would he of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! I can't believe it! We've reached the end! An epilogue will be up next week, but the grand adventure is just about over and I just want to say a massive THANK YOU for reading it!!!
> 
> And now, do yourself a favour and check out fairytalesandtimestravel's amazingly stunning artwork for this chapter! Drop her a nice message if you can - she really deserves it! [check it out here!!](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/post/168091306080/csbb-art-for-trueloveseyeroll-s-amazing-fic-when)


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The very last chapter of this little adventure! Thank you so much for sticking with me until the end, and to all of you have left a kudos or a comment, either once or for just about every chapter, you are AMAZING!! I'm so happy I joined this project in February, and therefore I'd love to thank everyone who made the Captain Swan Big Bang 2017 possible!!!
> 
> And of course, I'd never have made it this far without my wonderful beta [forget-me-not-s](http://forget-me-not-s.tumblr.com/). Also, once again a large cheer for the three artists for this story! [fairytalesandtimetravel](https://fairytalesandtimetravel.tumblr.com/), [theblacksiren](http://theblacksiren.tumblr.com/) and [optomisticgirl](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/)!!

“We’ll see you in about an hour, mom.”

“I can’t wait! Love you, Emma.”

“Love you too.”

Emma hung up, letting her phone rest on her lap. Outside the train, fields with patches of snow whirred by. Not as much snow as Mary Margaret had hoped for, but perhaps there would be further north in Maine.

The long awaited weekend had finally come. Mary Margaret and David were getting married in the bride’s hometown, a quaint place called Storybrooke. Emma had visited the place a few times with Mary Margaret before, during summer breaks from college. It was a nice town, but the fact that everyone knew everyone had always scared her a bit. As far as she knew, Mary Margaret had invited the entire town to the wedding, plus a few more (including Ingrid). She’d always said Storybrooke was so romantic during the winter - after all, that’s why they had chosen a December wedding.

Emma smiled, thinking of how lucky she was her best friend had decided to get married on the date she had. If not, Mary Margaret would have been the one who had travelled to Willesby three weeks ago. She had been working the case before Emma - if it hadn’t been for the stress before the wedding, Mary Margaret would have been the one who got to travel around Europe, looking for Liam Jones and eventually discovering Neverland.

Emma was still half-convinced it had all been a dream. She certainly couldn’t tell anyone about Neverland; instead, the story went that she’d found Liam in Norway with Elsa. And then they’d been kidnapped by Gold and his thugs. It was a hard story to sell, but how else were they going to explain their sudden appearance in Willesby? And how else were they going to build a case against Gold?

It was one big mess. Emma’s head hurt just thinking about it. Gold was powerful and rich - getting him behind bars wasn’t going to be easy. But the accusations against him piled on the more press the case got as several of Gold’s previous under-the-table-dealings came to the surface.

Emma shut her eyes tight, willing to forget it all for a moment. This weekend was supposed to be about Mary Margaret and David, and she had promised herself she could relax for just two days. Forget about Gold for the weekend, forget that her work-life was in a sketchy zone right now, forget that one single week had turned her life upside down.

But not everything was terrible.

Emma looked down at the head resting on her shoulder. A nice mess of dark hair.

A part of her wanted to panic, saying it was too much for her to deal with right now. Starting a relationship in the midst of all this - especially a relationship built on such an odd first meeting - was the worst thing she could possibly do.

But the other part of her couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that finally, Killian was the one asleep on _her_ shoulder.

She couldn’t wait to tease him about it. After all, he refused to let go of the fact that she’d been sleeping on his shoulder when they first met.

Who would’ve thought this is where they’d end up after that embarrassing episode on the train three weeks ago?

When Emma had told Mary Margaret and Ruby the entire story (the believable parts at least) upon coming home twelve days ago, her friends had immediately insisted that Killian come to the wedding.

Emma hadn’t been so sure about it. Could she ask Killian to fly to America for a wedding? The long-distance-thing really didn’t help her doubts about whether or not she and Killian were a good idea. But ever since she’d left England, one thing was clearer to her than anything had ever been in her life before: she missed him.

Somewhere along the way, through lies and revelations, through stealing objects and travelling from country to country and at last finding Neverland, Emma had found a companion in Killian. Someone she understood and who understood her. Someone she could laugh with. Someone she could share adventures with. But also someone she could enjoy quiet moments with, like an evening in front of a fire or a shared drink by the sea. And that date Killian had taken her on in Willesby, well, Emma had never been on such a wonderful first-date ever.

They’d been texting each other every day since she’d left. And every day, Mary Margaret and Ruby kept telling her to just invite him to the wedding.

In the end, Emma gave in. She’d lost her plus-one when Walsh and she split up - why not let Killian fill in? He didn’t need to know that she actually just really wanted to see him again.

(He’d seen right through her when she called him, but had been more than happy to accept her offer.)

And so Killian had flown to New York the day before. The jet lag was getting to him, and having stayed up in Emma’s bedroom most of the night probably hadn’t helped. Not that either of them would complain though.

Killian stirred, slowly waking but keeping his head on Emma’s shoulder.

“Arewetheresoon?” he mumbled against her neck, tickling her.

“An hour to go. You’ve still got some time to catch up on that sleep.”

He sighed something against her shoulder but she didn’t quite catch it. She thought he’d gone back to sleep, but with a groan he pulled away from her, sitting upright. She tried not to feel too upset about the loss of warmth against her side.

“I should probably spend that hour waking up instead. Wouldn’t do to meet your family and friends for the first time looking like I’ve just woken up.”

“No, that would be _terrible,_ ” Emma said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Bad form to mock a just-woken man, Swan.”

Emma smirked at him, leaning back in the corner of her seat. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Killian scoffed. “Now that’s just preposterous, love. Why should I ever be nervous? I’m a charming, handsome fellow, I’m sure I’ll have your loved ones won over in no time.”

“I don’t think your flirting’s gonna get you far with David.”

“I can always try.”

Emma chuckled, imagining Killian trying to smooch his way with David at the drinks table.

“Start with Mary Margaret and my mom - _then_ move on to David.”

“What about that lovely Ruby? She sounded like joyous company.”

“Trust me, all Ruby needs is to see your face and she’ll be rooting for me to keep you around for at least a few weeks more.”

Killian’s eyes lit up at that; then quickly turned to his all-too-usual smoulder. “And what about you, love? How long are you planning to keep me around?”

Emma smiled. “Let’s make it through this wedding and the whole Gold-disaster and we’ll see.”

“Well, that could be a while...” he scooted closer, making her tilt her head up to meet his gaze.

“You think you can handle it?” Emma asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Emma, I’m in it for the long haul.”

The way his eyes turned serious, putting his feelings out on open display should have scared her. His words alone should have made her want to run far away. And maybe they did, just a little. But not enough for Emma to even consider leaving her seat.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! :))


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